Puppy's Paradise
by KakyoTheStickInTheMud
Summary: SJ yaoi How has Joey been supporting his huge appetite and drunken father with time to spare for school and duels? Why, a secret, sexy job at a gentleman’s club, of course! When a business associate of Seto Kaiba treats him to a “mystery dance,” bli
1. An Odd Proposal

Summary: How has Joey been supporting his huge appetite and drunken father with time to spare for school and duels? Why, a secret, sexy job at a gentleman's club, of course! When a business associate of Seto Kaiba treats him to a "mystery dance," blindfold included, will they both have a heart attack? Or will the next dance be 'on the house'? Joey and Seto Yaoi (if you hadn't gathered).

6/6/08: Hello! Long time, ne? Hope everyone's not too angry with me! I've decided to MAKE time, since I realized I was never going to stop being busy. This is the improved (hopefully) and revised version. After so long, I felt it needed a bit of a lift. Honestly, it's more tweaked than revised. I barely changed anything, I promise. And yes, of course, there's a new chapter to cap it off.

Disclaimer: I do own things, you know, nothing very exciting, but I feel I should point out that Yugioh, its characters, and all affiliated affiliates are not among them. Thank you and enjoy the show (because I know Seto's gonna!).

**Puppy's Paradise**

**Chapter 1: An Odd Proposal **

Seto Kaiba gathered the last of his documents from the huge desk in the board room and placed them neatly in his briefcase. He shut it with a soft snap, reset the combination with a firm spin of the dials, and addressed his visitors in an even voice. "Thank you, gentlemen. We've accomplished quite a bit in the last week, and it's been a pleasure. I know I speak for everyone at Kaiba Corporation when I welcome you and Delicorp Co. to our fold. I look forward to doing business with you gentlemen and your enterprise in the near future, and I hope that this is the start of a long and mutually profitable relationship between our companies."

He dropped his head in the slightest of slight bows, keeping his eyes level with their faces, his neck straightening half of a second later. Four heads bowed deeply, eyes to the floor, swift and synchronized. Mr. Saki, the senior representative for Delicorp, grasped Seto's hand and shook it firmly. The three junior reps watched in amazement at Mr. Saki's sheer nerve. After spending the week with him, dealing with contracts, negotiations, and meeting after bloody meeting, the Delicorp Four had seen a bit of what it was to be Seto Kaiba. All of the representatives had found themselves very glad to be on the cooperative, rather than the opposing, side of the young C.E.O. more than once.

Seto picked up his briefcase, turned around, and headed swiftly for the door.

"If you'll excuse me," he said without looking back, without any hint of question or hesitation. "Have a safe journey, gentlemen."

The nervous junior suits hung their heads, knowing what was coming. There was no talking Saki out of it, no matter how they'd tried to reason that Seto Kaiba was a busy man, not terribly fond of people, and, unimportant as it may be, still underage.

"Nonsense!" he'd bellowed. "What does any of that have to do with going to a nightclub?"

They'd given up after that.

Now, Seto Kaiba was on his way out of the door, practically running, as if he too knew what Saki was about to propose.

"Mr. Kaiba! Wait!"

Seto stopped, looked at the door that was meant to be his means of escape from the 'social outing' invitation that was surely on its way. He could make a run for it... _No, _he thought. _I don't run away from invitations. I accept them graciously, because that's business. _He took a deep, cleansing breath. _Damn._ He'd been so close..

Saki smiled at his coworkers, urging them to support his venture. "Well, you see, it's just, that... Well..." Kunihiku, the shortest of the three junior reps, stuttered unattractively. Seto's eyes narrowed, concealing his urge to laugh out loud at these pathetic men who still had issues with acting maturely about mature matters. He smirked at the door, waiting for the men to get to their point.

"We've arranged to visit a rather reputable club on the south side of your lovely city," Saki explained. "With business taken care of, we'd like to take some time to unwind and enjoy ourselves while we're still here." The large, swarthy man smiled at the back of Seto's head. Seto, however, remained where he was.

Seto heard the uncomfortable shifting of his guests and suppressed a chuckle. He was always amused when he managed to intimidate people without even trying, though it was actually the opposite of his objective in this situation. Delicorp was a very valuable new asset to the company, and these men had been cooperative, and even helpful, during the process. He turned to face the four, set his briefcase back down on the massive desk, and waited.

"We'd LOVE for you to join us." Saki was grinning like a man under the impression that this was the best idea to occur in the last twenty years.

He blinked. Honestly, Seto didn't mind Mr. Saki. He found him a little overbearing, and perhaps not the brainiest of the corporate figureheads he'd had dealings with. He wasn't awful, though. His junior staff wasn't awful, either. They were...how to explain...

They were nice. The juniors were still a little bit afraid of him, but they were still, well, nice. It wasn't a quality the C.E.O. often came across in his profession. His aversion to the outing, really, had nothing at all to do with the Delicorp Four. It was entirely about the nature of the destination.

These outings (of which Seto had been on many... too many...) always seemed to have the common factor of bare breasts, lined up garishly across a stage, jiggling unbecomingly as the owners performed dance steps that brought on a sort of martial-arts-movie nostalgia. Saki's use of the words 'reputable club' had only reinforced his fear. All in all, it was a situation Seto would closely relate to his image of Hell.

_Why is it always a strip club? _Seto thought to himself. _Can businessmen frequent no other type of establishment? Is there some universally accepted memo I somehow failed to receive, regarding the Mandatory Strip Club Post-Negotiations Meeting, permanently scheduled to take place after closing any deal of any kind? _

Seto pondered for a brief moment, and then promptly answered himself. _Aside from the obvious reasons, such as ugly old business men being easily excitable, they just want to see me do some spending. Put my money where my mouth is. There are few places more expensive than exotic night clubs, I suppose, or at least no other one place with more opportunities to spend a large sum of money and have nothing to show for it the next day. _

_It would be nearly as effective, and would waste less of my time, to simply hire a few call girls, throw a burlap sack of yen at them and be done with it. _

He sighed inaudibly, disgusted and defeated by his own critical mind and good business sense. He certainly had to go now, if not before.

Well, there were worse ways to spend an evening. The burlesques always had gourmet cuisine, and only partial nudity. This was a positive aspect in cases where, when it came to naked women, less was always more. Seto shrugged mentally. He hadn't exactly had other plans, anyway.

Mr. Saki gave a load, throaty, fairly disturbing laugh. "Yes! It's a very, heh, 'colorful' establishment... There's a little bit of something for everyone, you could say!"

Three sharp intakes of breath whistled in unison, and then three heads nodded a bit too quickly in the background, wide and slightly fearful smiles plastered to their faces.

Seto's face was still. Slowly, he rose one eyebrow no more than a few millimeters and gave a very faint cough. Colorful? Something for everyone? These were terms not illustrative of the type of establishment in his suspicions. He lifted his chin slightly, noticing the feeling of discomfort rise in the air.

"Colorful?"

"I'd say," muttered the short, young suit Seto believed was named Kunihiko. Or was it Kunihiro? Not that it especially mattered.

Seto's eyebrow went up a bit more. He looked from face to face, attempting to figure out what the issue was. Business men liked gentleman's clubs. It seemed an indisputable fact of life. However, none had ever had such a hard time inviting him to one before. True, he'd been caught and impeded in trying to hurry off before arrangements could be made, but a post-negotiations outing was common; it could even be called customary. Seto wanted the Delicorp reps to be comfortable, and would suffer a fair amount of personal discomfort to ensure that they didn't.

"What do you mean by colorful?" One corner of his mouth twitched in what was one of Seto's few personal adaptations of smiling.

Saki looked again to his employees, determined to include them in his brilliant idea. His gaze settled on Werenko, another of the juniors.

He had never actually spoken directly to Kaiba before. "It's just, well, you know, um... It's a place where, well, men, you know, can go to, well, you know... Relax. And stuff. You know." He looked at Kaiba desperately, willing him to understand before he blushed any harder.

Seto was enjoying this game. These men were so funny, getting so flustered over a strip club, for god's sake. "I'm sorry, but I don't know," he said with a perfectly straight face. "And, as it were, I really must insist that I know what sort of establishment it is before I make any appearances. I would hate to miss your last night in town but, unfortunately, I don't have much time for guessing games."

Thick silence followed. The fun was wearing thin. Seto decided to take the initiative. His eyes narrowed. "Is it a gentleman's club?" he asked simply. He already knew the answer, of course. Relief crossed all four of their faces. _Bingo. _

"Well, yes, but..." Werenko started, his eyebrows coming together. His blush had thankfully faded some, but Kaiba noticed that a faint pinkness lingered despite the disappearance of the stutter. "I'm sure it isn't called that, exactly. It's really more of a, um, nightclub."

_Really. _Seto found himself uncommonly surprised. He hadn't expected this. _This could be interesting... They want to go to a _real _club, and not some dull, last-century Paris ripoff._

Seto smirked, amused by his own wit for a moment, and then collected himself. The answer was simple; he'd been willing to go when he'd thought the worst, and was certainly willing to go now that the prospect had livened up a bit.

Seto paused, a revelation. "Wait... did you say it was on the south side?" _As in, the queer side?_ Mystery solved! They'd been asking him to go to a _gay_ strip club, which certainly took an extra helping of nerve. They had no solid reason to believe he wouldn't be disgusted (unless his catty attitude and flair for a bondage-theme ensemble could be considered 'solid'). Seto nearly laughed out loud. This was a _very_ different situation. He may not have gone for the door, had he known.

Mr. Saki was quiet for a moment. "Well, I just thought it might be a nice change from the traditional." The big man shifted on his feet, finally seeming to realize he may be crossing some line. "Mr. Kaiba, I was inviting you as a fellow working man, and not as a required part of our dealings. I completely understand if you'd prefer-"

"An exotic night club on the south side? I can't say I've ever been." _Or that I've never considered it,_ he thought to himself with an inward grin.

He turned to them slowly, his eyes lingering for just a moment on Mr. Saki. "Of course, I'd be happy to join you. All work and no play, as the saying goes." He frankly had no idea how it went, only that Mokuba chirped it at him at least once a week when he was trying to get him to take a day off. He mildly wondered if he'd used it appropriately, then decided just as mildly that, if he hadn't, these idiots wouldn't catch on, much less call him on it.

Seto pulled out his tiny, solid platinum cellular phone. "What's the name of this place?" he asked as he pushed the speed dial for his chauffeur.

"Oh, you'll love this," laughed Mr. Saki, obviously very pleased that he hadn't offended anyone. "It used to be an animal shelter, specializing in dogs with abnormalities and special needs. The shelter moved across town a few years ago, and was bought and remodeled into a club."

"I see," Seto replied dryly. He hadn't asked for the life story of the place.

"Anyway, the best part is, now it's called 'Puppy's Paradise.' Don't you just love it?" he bellowed.

An image flashed through Seto's mind: angry brown eyes, set in a well-featured face, framed by choppy blond hair. It had been a fair amount of time since he'd been able to hear the P-word without maniacal laughter threatening to escape him, as it threatened to now. _The name of the club... that's priceless._ He did "just love it," but he supposed it was for different reasons than Saki's. He managed to restrain himself, but not without difficulty.

_That is certainly __one I'll remember for the next time we meet,_ Kaiba thought with a gleam.

Meanwhile, on the south side, Jonouchi Katsuya strode down a brightly lit city street on his way to work, steadily passing by cafe-style restaurants, designer clothing stores, hideously cute-tiny-trinket stores, and other such similar retailers. Traffic whizzed by, sending a chilly breeze his way, whipping his hair into his eyes and across his face. Bright headlights lit his path from behind as cars came up the street in his direction, the lights of cross traffic causing him to squint as he made his way further south.

Katsuya sighed, keeping his mind on the scenery around him and off of the work that lay ahead, occupying his restless consciousness by noting meaningless details. There, by the Starbucks, a crack in the sidewalk. Here, on the curb near the lamppost (with the temperamental bulb), a card-sized chip in the red paint. He knew every detail of this route: every crack and chip, every weed that had struggled through the sidewalk, every rusty grate of every storm drain. He knew them as well as he knew his way around a cheeseburger after two days with no dinner. He made a game of it, playing without even really realizing.

_Today, they'll have finally taken down that stray construction sign from when they built the median last July. _

He looked across the street, next to the "gourmet pizzeria" ("Purveyor of tomato compost- smeared particle board" in Katsuya's opinion. He once announced to all his friends that the location was 'a disgrace to the good name of pizza,' to which they responded, 'Didn't you make a peanut butter and marshmallow with extra cheese last week?' 'Oh yeah,' he'd grinned. 'That was delicious!' None of them have been back. ). Sure enough, he spotted a stray bolt less than a foot away from where the now-absent sign had been. "Oh yeah!" he yelled to himself, punching the air. "I win! I win the game!"

He launched into a victory move not unlike the moonwalk; at just the same moment, a passing trinket shopper who was, apparently, within earshot of his victory call, caught his eye and gave him a look a caged zoo monkey would find familiar. Katsuya blushed slightly and gave a feeble wave. "Don't mind me," he called to her, his voice high-pitched and thin with embarrassment. The shopper smiled nervously and hurried into a store full of tiny things. Katsuya scratched his head, shrugged, and continued on his way. He picked a new subject.

_That soda cup will be gone when I come by on my way home._

As he gazed at said soda cup, discarded carelessly in the gutter, a caravan of three stretch limos glided past, their engines' purr fading smoothly into the general noise of the city. Katsuya liked limos. He'd never been in one before, but he liked the impressive way they looked. Though he couldn't ever see through the tinted windows, he always craned his neck when they passed and tried, just the same, every time. No luck this time either. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his new wool coat and smiled.

_If I gotta totally sacrifice my dignity to keep the bills paid, at least there's enough left over for some new threads once in a while,_ he thought to himself with a low chuckle. He hadn't had a new coat in a long time, and buying it had made him feel strangely proud. Regardless of how, he had earned his stylish, warm new coat. He stroked it absently and started whistling a tune. He felt his lips begin to chap from the wind and his cheeks turning pink, and realized he had been whistling songs from his set tonight. So much for keeping his mind off of it. _Hey, this could be a new gimmick for me: instead of dancing to the stereo system, I could whistle my own soundtrack! _He laughed out loud at his own silliness. He knew he was stuck with his current gimmick, his uniform, until he quit or died.

He looked back to the street, the laugh dying on his lips where it had begun. There was the 'massage parlor,' ("Just a little extra for our special massage!") which was where the unspoken division between the respectable business district and the red light district lay. It would be hard to tell when you'd crossed the line...if not for the flashing neon "Girls! Girls! Girls!" (or "Boys! Boys! Boys!") signs in the next windows over. If one peered at the windows all down the street, one would see quite a few flashing neon signs, all of them advertising the same thing in different forms.

This was one of the city's oldest areas, in terms of architecture. Katsuya wondered what it had looked like before becoming the neighborhood where...well, this neighborhood. He chuckled. _It's real nice how they've honored the historic value of this place, huh?_

He rounded a wide curve in the road, his stroll becoming a brisk walk. He was almost there, and it was time to put his game face on. He took a deep breath.

As he approached the red brick building (recently fully restored and renovated!) that was his destination, he let himself sink into a different game, concentrating on playing the role instead of avoiding it. As long he could make work into a fun game, like Duel Monsters, he could get through his shift without thinking too hard about what he was actually about to do.

_Here we go. _He began to chant to himself, giving voice to every thought he could find to create his image. Winning this game made him the perfect dancer, and his clients responded with their hard- earned income.

_I am desire, I am an icon. _

His features began to shift, slowly, as he let himself go. His normally open and honest face was closing and hardening as he focused. The hotheaded, normal teenage Katsuya was on his way out, to return only when this new Katsuya was done. The Puppy's Paradise star performer, the best paid and most requested dancer, of any gender, race, creed or category, mind, with the face that only told you what it wanted to and nothing more... This was the Katsuya that stepped onto the club's stage with sure steps three nights a week.

_Tonight, I am a sex symbol and sensual god. _

_I am envy; I remind you that what you want, you will never have._

A sultry smirk crept across his face, and, with a deep breath, he let normal Katsuya be completely free to go where and do what he wished.

_I__ am_ _what you can't have...you can only pretend for a price and a short time. _

The three limos were illegally parked in front of the club, and the drivers were having a disagreement with both the parking enforcement and Big Tony, the bouncer. Katsuya giggled, breaking character.

_Poor Tony. Even his mom calls him Big Tony. I sure hope he never wanted another career path; I think it's required by law to go into security if you are over 190cm, 300 lbs, and have an intimidating nick name._

He tried to imagine Tony as a veterinarian or Broadway actor or other equally anti- bouncer job, and failed. Remembering himself, Katsuya sighed. His concentration had been shaken, but he felt ready for the night ahead. One limo, even on a weeknight, equaled a busy night. Three limos, however, and on a Friday, equaled a good opportunity to start a decent-sized college fund.

If you knew how to work it, which Katsuya certainly did.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a rushing sigh, he slipped into the narrow alley, past the garbage cans, and around the corner to the entrance in the back marked 'Employees Only.'


	2. A Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: No, I still, in fact, do not own Yugioh. I beseech you not to pursue legal recourse.

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting**

Seto and the Delicorp reps brushed past the parking police and large man who worked the door (all of whom were currently receiving a handsome parking fee in exchange for their cooperation) and entered the club. The first was a small coat room, and a short girl who appeared to have gotten her haircut with a weed-whacker in the dark held up a hand to stop them from going through the next door.

"Check your coats, please."

Seto very nearly gave her his, "Do you have and idea who you're dealing with?" treatment, but thought better of it. It was clearly a security measure, and perhaps not worth making a huge deal over. He was supposedly here to enjoy himself, after all. He slipped out of his billowy white trench coat and exchanged it for a small, purple ticket. He almost immediately regretted it; without his coat, he felt he no longer looked as impressive and important as he liked to. People almost recognized his coat sooner than they did him. He consciously willed himself not to snatch the coat back from the girl. _I am not my coat,_ he thought with a grimace, ashamed of himself for having such a childish reaction.

He turned to watch as the reps slid out of their suit blazers, their white shirts and ties not much less formal. With purple slips in hand, the five passed through the door and into the club itself. The coat girl watched them go, giggling to herself. _The tall one was a lot skinnier than I thought he'd be under all those gravity-defying ripples. _She giggled again as they left. _He almost fits in now._

Once they were inside, Seto realized that the coat girl had been far from the oddest-looking person he was to encounter in this club. Aside from the overwhelmingly male population, everywhere he turned was something different: young people in chains and black leather, older people in suits like his companions. There were people who had brightly multicolored hair (_not unlike Yuugi's_, he chuckled to himself briefly) and people who would have looked normal if not for their extensive facial piercing and tattoo collections. He looked down at his own wardrobe. As it turned out, without the Kaiba Corp. jacket, he blended in rather well. He was still much taller than most, but his lithe frame and buckle-seasoned black outfit fit right in. A little bit of black eyeliner and the look would have been perfect. Seto smirked, pleasantly surprised. This wasn't a place where he'd have wanted to stand out anyway, and he mentally chided himself once more for being so self-conscious.

Feeling more at rest, he took a moment to observe the club itself. It was pretty big; it was also so crowded that one might not think so to look at it. There was a large stage centered at the back of the club with a big, arm-less chair in its center and two poles on either side of it, as well as four much smaller platform stages spread out across the floor. The smaller stages were in use, every table around them occupied by people who had a seemingly endless supply of ten and twenty dollar bills to shove into barely-there garments. The main stage was empty and partially lit, as if to promise the big show was yet to come.

Saki appeared next to him with his three fellows and gestured towards the main stage. As they crossed the floor, Saki caught the eye of a well-dressed man who was sitting at a table in the front row. The man smiled and hurried over to them.

"Mr. Saki, is it?" The well-dressed man smiled and looked over the three reps. "And where is Mr. Kaiba? Did he decide not to join you?" He snickered as if he'd made a terribly funny joke.

Saki beamed. "Oh, no, Mr. Kaiba is right here!" He turned to reveal Seto, who'd been standing behind him.

The man looked as though he'd swallowed his hat. "Forgive me," he recovered. "I didn't recognize you, sir. It's a pleasure to have you here." He extended a hand. "My name is Dino. I own this place."

Seto shook his hand warily. He couldn't have cared less if this shady character was the owner or the queen of France.

"Please, have a seat. I've reserved the best table we have for you gentlemen." Dino paused and looked Seto over slowly, a smile creeping across his face. Seto glared in response, but Dino didn't seem to notice. He turned to Saki. "I have just had a fabulous idea. Let's converse, shall we?" Saki and Dino disappeared into the crowd.

Seto took a seat. Dino hadn't been kidding; the view of the main stage was perfect, as was the view of the whole rest of the club. Seto smiled to himself and made a mental note to thank Saki later. A young waiter in a leather midriff shirt and hot pants approached them seconds later to take their drink order. The reps had neat bourbon, also ordering a martini for Saki. They looked expectantly at Seto, who hadn't been exactly planning to have anything. However, he also wasn't opposed to the idea.

"I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea," he said. He liked how deceptively harmless they were; they were made up of nearly pure alcohol without tasting like it. Of course, in Seto's own mind, no amount of alcohol could affect his behavior, let alone intoxicate him. There was no reason for him_ not _to drink, really. The scantily clad waiter smiled, walked to the bar, and returned a few moments later, setting their beverages before them just as Saki returned. He smiled at his martini and took a long drink

"Where were you?" Kunihiku asked him. "Did that oily man want more money for the table or something?"

"Ah, no, nothing like that." He waved a dismissive hand. "He wanted to know if I wanted to arrange something special for our guest of honor, here." He grinned a good-natured grin at Seto, who eyed him suspiciously.

"Something special?"

"Yes! Anyway, it sounded like fun, so I told him to go ahead!" Saki beamed, proud of himself for doing something so wonderful.

Seto wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. In fact, he was almost certain he didn't. He sipped his drink, the blank stare he wore hiding his low-level panic. Why had he thought this was a good idea, exactly? Unfortunately, before he could protest, the lights in the club shut off abruptly, and the main stage lights lit up one by one. He drank again, more deeply this time.

"Good evening, fellow creatures of the night!" Dino's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Thank you all for coming. Tonight, as you know, our star performer is with us, as I can only wish he was more often. What's more, he has a special dance set up for you tonight involving a very special guest! That's right, it's our world famous 'Mystery Dance!'"

The crowd hooted and whistled, and Seto wondered what a "Mystery Dance" was. In any case, he was getting increasingly nervous. He hoped that there was some other "very special guest" who would be "involved," but his instincts told him he knew better. He attempted to sip his Long Island, but got nothing but a few drops. He frowned at it; he hadn't realized he was drinking it so quickly.

"So let's get to it, shall we?" Dino shouted, earning the cheers of the audience. "Let's bring our guest up here."

A spotlight swiveled over to fix on Seto, whose vision was beginning to blur slightly from his too-quick ingestion of his drink. "I'm not sure about this," he said much too quietly to be heard over the crowd. Two brawny men wearing leather loincloths and what looked like tire chains came from offstage to collect him, and Seto could do little to combat them as they guided him to the large chair in the center of the stage.

"Now, for those of you who are first timers like our guest here," Dino boomed, "we call this a 'Mystery Dance' because, for him, whatever's going to happen is always a mystery!" At that, one of the brawny tire-chain men pulled a blindfold from nowhere and covered Seto's eyes, while the other pulled out a rope and tied his arms loosely behind his back.

"Don't worry," one of them said in Seto's ear. "Just relax. This will be fun, I promise." Seto had his doubts, but his mild case of the spins thickened his tongue and kept him from making any reply at the moment.

"Is he ready? Good! Then, without further ado, it is my great pleasure to present to you, the pearl of the Puppy's Paradise, the boy with all the right moves, your favorite and mine, Teacher's Pet!"

The crowd went wild. Seto stiffened, his world dark, unsure of what would happen next.

* * *

"Teacher's Pet," also known as Jounochi Katsuya, peeked around the corner of the wings, waving at his audience. They promptly went mad, screaming and hollering lewd comments, some even throwing money and roses up onto the stage. He grinned to himself. It was nice to be loved. He stepped out into full view, making a dainty little curtsy and throwing a few princess waves for the fun of it. He was certainly a sight to behold; he wore a naughtier version of an American Catholic school girl uniform, complete with extra-short, plaid, pleated skirt, and a white collared shirt, tied up to expose his midriff. He worked the crowd a few moments more, blowing kisses, turning around and bending to pick up one of his roses. He walked the edge of the stage, pausing to let his admirers stuff their cash into the waistband of his skirt, smelling his rose and looking pretty.

Once he felt he'd made a proper entrance, he walked up to the poor bastard in the chair. Katsuya almost felt sorry for him, so confused and blind in front of everyone. He studied his victim for a moment, passing the rose softly over his lips, parting them slightly. This one was pretty good-looking, as far as he could tell with the blindfold, anyway. He admired his strong jaw, his fine, high cheekbones. Katsuya was lucky; this was not always the case, and he had to work with all of them. He smelled alcohol on his breath and laughed out loud. He turned to the audience and cocked an eyebrow, wordlessly asking for their support.

"Give him your best, beautiful!" yelled someone near the stage.

Katsuya winked and looked up to the DJ's booth, nodding for him to start. A slow, grinding beat crept through the club's many speakers. It was Nine Inch Nails "Closer," a song he liked to use for this particular situation. His subject shifted in the chair, his eyebrows coming together under the thin black strip that half-covered his face. Katsuya walked behind the chair, running his hands down the subject's arms. He jumped at the contact, his body rigid with tension.

"You let me violate you," Trent sang, and Katsuya whispered along into the ear of his toy. _And violate you I will, _he thought. He'd gotten 500, in advance, for this one. He'd promised to make it special, since this guy clearly knew someone who thought he needed it. He played with him for a moment, running his hands through his hair, stroking the sensitive spots behind his ears. He bent slightly and ran his tongue up one lobe, enjoying the way he shivered.

Trent sang on, and Katsuya took a moment to molest the young man in the chair: leaning way over him to stroke his stomach and legs, marveling at his well-constructed body. It was rare not to get someone rather overweight and unattractive, and this man was neither, not by a long shot. This dance would be a pleasure to perform.

"Help me," Trent sang. Katsuya came around to stand in front of him, placed his hands on the back of the chair, and swiftly leapt into his lap, straddling him in a practiced movement. The toy jumped again, and Katsuya smiled. He had the most fun with the nervous ones. It made it that much better when they relaxed.

He ran his hands up the man's stomach, slowly, slowly, turning his head and grinning at the crowd. They called and whistled, both envious and appreciative of the situation this special guest was in. He retracted his hands from under the shirt and raised them to finger the collar, waiting for the cue in the song for his next move.

"...You get me closer to god."

In one quick movement, Katsuya ripped open the man's shirt, exposing his slim, toned chest.

"I wanna fuck you like an animal..." Trent declared just as the sound of ripping fabric tore across the stage. The subject jerked, restrained at the wrists, unable to stop the loss of his garment. The crowd screamed, and Katsuya began a slow grind to the beat of the music, seated in his subject's lap, slowly unbuttoning his own shirt. He cast it aside and wrapped his arms around his toy, pressing closely to him, skin pressed against skin. Sweat broke out across the toy's forehead, droplets disappearing into the blindfold. He felt a stirring underneath him, in the lap of the blind man. Katsuya smirked and ground harder, feeling victorious. He could turn on a total stranger who'd never seen his face. That had to be talent.

The song went on, Trent becoming more and more vehement about how desperately he needed, well, what he needed. Katsuya leaned back enough to bring his legs out from behind the chair, spreading and raising them until his knees were bent over the man's shoulders. He laced his fingers through the man's hair once more, grasping tightly and grinding harder, using his hold on the hair as leverage. He turned his head around to the audience and slowly licked his lips. They responded with more cheers and appreciative comments, and Katsuya untangled his fingers from the thick, brown hair of the man to stroke his own neck and chest for their benefit. They screamed with delight. Satisfied, he returned his attention to the bound man.

He leaned back again, spreading his legs and lowering them from their resting place on either side of his toy's head. It was time; this man would no longer try to escape, if ever he had wanted to. He placed his feet on the ground, reached behind the chair, and untied the hands of his subject. He then slowly bent all the way backward, his hands coming up over his head, eventually resting flat, his hair dusting the floor.

The recipient raised his newly freed hands, hesitated, and then brought them down on Katsuya's stomach, just as he'd known he would. He stroked Katsuya as he'd been stroked before losing his shirt, and Katsuya felt the stirring evolve into a full-on erection. He waited for the next move, as sure of it as he'd been of the last. As expected, the subject's hands grasped him about the ribcage and pulled him roughly upward. Katsuya enjoyed the feeling of his large, strong hands, and he was pleased to see his subject involve himself. The man held him upright for a moment before lessening his grip, his hands then roaming freely over his shoulders, down his arms, under his skirt and up his thighs. He was sweating harder now; his chest glistened under the stage lights, and Katsuya was again struck with physical admiration. _Damn, I wish they could all be this hot._ He grinned, trailing a finger down the center of the torso he was so glad to have exposed.

Katsuya smiled, placing his hands on top of the subject's, stopping the exploring hands just before they reached their obvious destination. He stood quickly and turned around, re-seating himself so that his back was to the man. He waved at the crowd, laughing. They hooted and laughed back, urging him to finish this one off. He was already a goner.

Katsuya leaned back as far as he could, placing a hand behind the stranger's head, pulling his face down into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. His other hand took one of the subject's and placed it very low on his stomach, pushing it slowly under the waistband of his skirt. He smelled alcohol again, felt the hot breath of the man panting against him.

The song was almost over. This time, when Katsuya rode him, the man placed a hand on Katsuya's hip and arched his lower back to meet him. The hard beat of the song became a tinny piano bit, signaling that the song was ending. Katsuya put his hand on the man's chin, tilted his face slightly, and pressed his lips against the parted ones he found there. The crowd shrieked and cheered, and the man, far from resisting, kissed him with all the passion built up throughout the encounter. Without breaking contact, Katsuya reached behind his head and untied the blindfold, letting it fall to the ground.

And then the kiss ended, and they opened their eyes to look at one another, both breathing heavily with desire. Once they saw the truth, nothing could have prepared them for what they now faced.

* * *


	3. The Aftermath

6/6/08: I have left the following intact, but all individual responses to reviews have been removed (as I can now respond directly!).

I would like to note that there will undoubtedly be certain inconsistencies between this fic and facts of Japanese culture. For example, Jounochi Katsuya's name is correct, with family name first and individual name second, but I maintained the American version of Kaiba Seto, and refer to him as Seto Kaiba. This is a personal preference on my part; Seto Kaiba has a ring to it that I love, and couldn't forsake, even for the purpose of accuracy. Further regarding Jounochi's name, I noticed that it is spelled Jonouchi in the manga novels, and the way I use in the anime translations. I picked the second only because it sounds like the way I'm accustomed to pronouncing it. Another is the setup of the school week; I understand that Japanese students attend six days a week as opposed to the American five, but shortening it served my plot purposes more effectively. I'm sure other Americanized factors will occur, and I will honestly say that my only explanation is my urgent need to get this tale out before it dissolves, thus closing my self-allotted research window. As of right now, computer time is story time. I hope you all will humor me regarding this...well, laziness, on my part.

Disclaimer: Yugioh is the property of...other people, and the characters are used without permission.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Aftermath**

_Kaiba?!_

_Jounochi?!_

The two stared stupidly at each other for a moment, frozen in disbelief. Neither moved nor breathed, suddenly completely numb to their surroundings. The two were suspended in time and space, unable to see or feel past the shock of recognition.

"Wasn't that fun?" cried Dino on the loudspeaker, breaking the trance. Katsuya was suddenly very aware that he was still on Seto's lap, and that he apparently hadn't _quite_ calmed down yet. He jumped off hastily, nearly losing his balance. Seto only continued to stare stupidly at him, apparently so at a loss that, for once, he didn't even have an insult ready.

"Lets give a big hand to Teacher's Pet and his, ahem, _enthusiastic_ new friend for their stellar performance!" Dino continued. The audience cheered long and loud, and Katsuya smiled shakily at them.

_Okay. I'm still on the clock here. I gotta- Um- Shit, what am I gonna do? _The reality of the situation was setting in, and the situation looked pretty bad from where Katsuya was standing.

_Talk about the last guy I thought I'd ever be workin' up in _this_ joint._

He looked at Seto, who had redirected his dumbfounded gaze to the audience. Katsuya decided to take advantage of Seto's stunned and abnormally placid state; it likely wouldn't be long before he remembered himself and the badness of the situation erupted. He took Seto's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Just play along," he hissed. Seto nodded, his eyes glazed. Katsuya motioned the brawny men over to escort Seto back to his table. They did so, and, with a final bow, he scuttled off the stage.

He collapsed into the first chair he saw, his heart beating crazily. _What the hell- why was he- why did he- he- I was- holy shit! _His mind spun, new thoughts crowding out the old before he could finish thinking them. Images of their encounter flashed through his mind at a dizzying speed.

"Hey, Teach, you need the dressing room before your next set?" One of his coworkers was talking to him. He took a breath and forced himself to calm down. As much as the world appeared to have become a crazy dream, he was, in fact, still in the real one; moreover, in the real world, he still had three hours of his shift left.

"Um, yeah. Ill uh, Ill be right there," he called back.

_Okay. I still gotta work, and there ain't a thing I can do about it right now. Ill have to jump off this bridge later, I guess._

Resolved for the moment, he pushed all thoughts of Seto and the dance to the back of his mind and hurried to the dressing room to get ready.

* * *

Seto had been returned to the table before the world around him came back to his attention. He looked around to see the Delicorp reps staring at him. Saki smiled a sunny smile, clearly unaware that anything had happened aside from Seto having a jolly good time on stage.

"Well! That was exciting!" Saki exclaimed, his grin widening to a nearly unfathomable facial contortion. "Dino assured me you'd enjoy yourself! Did you? You sure seemed to!" Saki had had another martini in Seto's absence, and appeared to have gotten more than a bit squiffy. The juniors dropped their gazes as Seto tried to meet them, trying to take the least health-hazardous course of action in case Seto's impressive temper had been triggered.

Seto battled twin urges to throttle the life out of this stupid, friendly man, or simply turn tail and run. After a moment he settled on a furious glare, but Saki didn't even notice.

"Splendid!" he cried as if Seto had just expressed his deep gratitude and gushed on about the fun of it all. He signaled hot-pants for another martini.

"I-" Seto started. His jaw hung open for a moment, his sentence cut off before it had really begun. He wasn't even sure of what it was he'd been about to say.

_I need to get out of here. Right now._

"Ill be leaving now. Enjoy the rest of your evening." He managed to choke out in the calmest voice he could muster. He turned around and walked away as quickly as he could without running, pushing past people without apology, thinking only of escape.

"All right Mr. Kaiba! This was fun! Well do it again sometime!" Saki called after him.

The liquor that still coursed through his veins was making his path to the exit unclear, threatening to pull his legs from under him. He tried to spot the door that would let him out, but he couldn't see past the crowd. He cursed under his breath, pushing people aside more forcefully than before. Finally, he found the coat room door and darted through it. He shoved his purple ticket at the girl, who regarded him with wide eyes. She collected his trench in a few swift movements, handing it to him wordlessly.

He pulled it on as quickly as he could, painfully aware that the pieces of his shirt were long gone, still up on the floor of the stage, and the coat was sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. The coat girl giggled.

"You know, that jacket looks better that way."

The fire in his eyes silenced her so quickly, it was as if her laughter had been cut short with a knife. Seto pushed open the door that led outside, hurried to his limo, and climbed in.

"Home," he barked at the driver. The tires screeched as they pulled out onto the road, heading to the Kaiba mansion at twenty over the limit.

In the dark, familiar comfort of his vehicle, Seto was able to breathe a bit more normally, but not much. The alcohol was wearing off, but his blurred vision was only receding into a headache. He tried to force himself back into his usual cold, collected demeanor, but was unable. His heart rate was only rising, his head throbbing to its beat. He held his hand up and gazed at it. He was shaking. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so unnerved.

_What's happening to me?_

He didn't like this one bit. He was Seto Kaiba, and Seto Kaiba was in control at all times.

Except, it seemed, at this time.

_This is ridiculous! Who cares if that mutt happened to be there? He'll never say a word to anyone. He knows I would kill him. _

_There is nothing to be upset about at all._

It was a nice theory, but Seto knew it wasn't working.

All the nice theories in the world couldn't change the truth that was threatening to break his already fragile psyche. To admit it, though, even to himself, was something he just couldn't allow himself to do. To acknowledge it would make the situation somehow worse than just a potential threat to his reputation or a missed opportunity to humiliate Katsuya. The real reason was too horrible for him to contemplate.

Katsuya was the antithesis of what Seto considered himself to be. He despised everything the blond stood for: he was open, honest, and loyal. He let his emotions determine his actions, his words betray his intentions, and his devotion to his friends and his ethics control his priorities. These were weaknesses Seto'd had to strip himself of long ago to survive. He'd hated Katsuya from the first time he'd laid eyes on him, never even bothering to wonder why. It had felt instinctual, almost fated. It was instant and unquestioned...until now.

Katsuya had seen something no one was ever supposed to see; he had seen Seto being weak. To show desire was to show weakness. As soon as someone knew you wanted something, they could make it hard for you. They had power over you. Seto knew this well, both from his life and his work. He also knew that life and business were hard to separate. Seto's first priority in both had always been not to allow anyone to have power over him. He had devoted so much energy to the mental wall he had constructed through harsh training and life experience; it was the wall that protected him, that kept his emotions concealed and restrained while keeping everyone else, and the suffering they could cause, out. It had always served that purpose well, and Seto relied on it with every fiber of his being. The wall itself was, in fact, his weakness.

Katsuya was not the person he'd wanted to be the first to breach it. He was the type of person to keep on picking at a scab until it opened and bled, to keep pushing at a heavy door until it gave. He had seen the crack in Seto's foundation from the beginning: telling him his cold ways would hurt only himself in the long run, always trying to provoke him to show something, anything that might give a glimpse of the interior. Now that there was physical chemistry to consider, he might just try to hammer at it until it shattered.

It was impossible for Seto to dismiss his fear as an overreaction. The threat of it, be it minor or even completely self-imagined, was too frightening for him to allow. He had to scare him off before he had the chance. Otherwise, all Seto's hard work was in danger of collapsing into one big fucking emotional mess, and, like most emotional matters, he simply couldn't handle it.

His headache was killing him now. The limo pulled into the long driveway of Seto's immense home, and he leapt out before the tires had even completely stopped rolling. He strode to the front door, pressed his thumb against the ID lock, and pushed through the door when he heard it click open. He climbed the huge staircase, half-running along long hallways until he reached his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, stripped off what remained of his damp clothes, and collapsed on his bed without turning down the blankets. Merciful sleep claimed him moments later, allowing him access to his preferred tactics of avoidance and repression, if only momentarily.

* * *

Katsuya let himself in quietly, shutting the door behind him slowly so as not to wake his father. They'd moved into a new apartment recently, a nice place about fifteen minutes' walk from the club. It wasn't a penthouse by any means, but it was a sure sight better than the rat hole they'd been calling home before. Mr. Jounochi had been doing much better, making sure to attend every AA meeting, staying away from temptation.

Katsuya was proud of him. He'd even held down a job at a processing plant for the last two months. Naturally, it didn't cover the rent, nor help much with the enormous amount of debt he'd racked up in the years he'd spent on the sauce; Katsuya's paychecks and thick wads of cash tips had been taking care of that. What really mattered to him was that his father was trying. It made it worthwhile to return to the degrading work at the club week after week.

He slumped onto his comfortable sofa, sponsored by a particularly generous drag queen he'd danced for some months ago, and shut his eyes, tired from the evening's ventures. The remainder of his shift had been surreal. He'd done everything right, not missing a single cue or opportunity, but it had been as if he'd been somewhere outside of himself, watching a play or movie he'd seen so many times he had it memorized. His body seemed to move without him, shifting to autopilot when his mind had become too overwhelmed to man the wheel. Walking home, he'd been so spaced out, he'd nearly strolled into oncoming traffic.

Now, at home, away from his obligations, he knew he needed to sift through his jumbled thoughts about Seto. He'd obviously been accompanied by the suits in the front row, so it must have been some kind of business outing that had brought him to the club. He'd also obviously had a little bit to drink, which could explain his compliance in being led on stage. _Had to be,_ he thought. _A totally sober Kaiba woulda never gotten on a stage that didn't have a podium for him to run his mouth from, the cocky bastard. _

He smiled warily at his own witty observation, but it faded from his mouth after a moment. He had to wonder why- hell, _how,_ he hadn't recognized him. He could only conclude that it had been a combination of Katsuya never expecting to see him there, the lack of his distinguishable trademark, the trench coat, and the blindfold that had half-covered his face.

_I guess now I could see how those masked super-heroes have been keepin' their secret identities. And there I was, always thinkin' these comic book townspeople had to be retarded not to see it was the same guy. I stand corrected. _

_Or maybe I don't. Maybe I'm just a retard._

He groaned softly to himself, leaning forward and cradling his head in his hands. Seto, or, more specifically, sorting things out with him, was bound to be his biggest issue at this point. Katsuya preferred to get things like that over with as soon as possible. He felt that the world was a better place when the air was clear, and this air would certainly need some clearing. He sketchily planned how to handle the daunting task of confronting him.

_Okay, it's real simple. Monday morning, I'll see him at school, and he'll have had a few days to cool it by then. I'll just let him know that it's not a big deal, and I'm not gonna say anything, so not to worry. He'll call me a stupid mutt, make some comments about the name of the club and how perfect it is for me, and well just go right back to normal. Perfect._

_Oh yeah.__ Too freakin' __perfect._

Seto was not exactly the type to let things go, and Katsuya knew he was really stretching his imagination to believe their next encounter would go that smoothly. His mind wandered, trying to figure out how he was going to deal with his situation.

As he pondered this, an image floated stealthily to the surface of his mind, creeping up on him, startling him with its sudden, vivid clarity: Seto's bare chest, shining with sweat, his arms tied behind him, shifting under Katsuya's weight. He felt an alarmingly strong surge of desire, even stronger than he'd felt then, when Seto was right there in front of him as just a sexy, well-toned stranger. The force of it made him squirm with discomfort, a thin sheen appearing on his forehead.

_Christ, this is freakin' SETO KAIBA were talkin' about here!_ _Get a grip, Katsuya! You remember Kaiba, right? Grade-A, premium, 100 percent asshole? Hates your guts? Ringin' any bells? This guy is a crazy, fucked-up freak, not a friggin' piece of eye candy._

Memories of all their times together, always arguing, fighting, and swapping insults, flowed through his mind like a wave. There were so many. Every time they met, whatever the circumstances, their reactions were the same. There was always the common factor, the constant in all of them: how passionately they hated one another, how easily one could set off the other's temper.

The heated energy between them had been just as strong in how fiercely they had kissed, just hours ago. It wasn't common practice for him; he was an entertainer, after all, not a prostitute, and he'd never done anything like it before for any pretty face or sum of money. But he'd been so drawn to the man who'd turned out to be Seto, undeniably sensing something there between them...he'd been overcome by his own temptation, broken his own rules. When their lips touched, Katsuya had felt like he was bursting into flames.

He felt a dull ache start in his abdomen, just above the place where his body had begun to stir at the memory.

_Dear God, I've gone funny in the head. This is crazy! I can't want someone and hate him at the same time, can I? _

_Can I?_

Well, he certainly didn't want to sit around and torture himself about it. He'd find out for sure what was possible and what wasn't. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and thought about Seto again. This time, he closely examined the dance, mentally pasting Seto's personality onto the blank space in his image of the man he'd danced for, integrating them into one, willing himself to be appalled or disgusted.

He thought of Seto's hands, how large and strong they were, the feeling of them on his stomach after he'd untied them. How they'd gripped him by his sides when he pulled him upright. How far they'd gone without even having looked at each other. Could he _really_ find Seto Kaiba attractive, after all the time he'd spent resenting his existence?

If his physical response was any indication, then he would have to conclude that, in fact, he both could and did.

_All right. This could complicate things a bit._

He cursed his own dumb luck for inadvertently showing him this side of Seto he found so appealing. It had been hard enough to be around him before; now, with sexual tension thrown into the mix, Katsuya feared that coming within a twenty foot radius of him might just make his head explode. He didn't need a psychic to know that Monday was going to be one hell of an interesting day.

All his thinking had worn him out, and he was nearly ready to expire. He lifted himself from the sofa and headed for his bedroom. He was exhausted, and all he wished for was his bed and a night's rest. He climbed in, curled up between the sheets, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

It didn't come; it stayed just out of reach, warded off by the slow throb in his groin. It intensified as he thought about it, as if to verify that he would not be getting any shut-eye until he dealt with this matter. And so, he uncoiled, stretching out flat on his back. He threw an arm over his eyes and reached down with the other, taking hold of himself. He began moving rhythmically, images playing behind his closed eyelids like a slide show.

Seto, pushing him to the ground.

Seto's face: eyes narrowing in anger, chin jutting with contempt, mouth curving into a smirk.

Seto, hardening under him, pressing into his thigh.

Gripping Seto's collar, shouting in his face.

Seto, calling him a dog.

Seto gripping him by the hipbone, arching up to him as he slid across his lap, over and over...

And thus it continued, groans catching in his throat, the pictures in his mind and the movement of his arm gaining speed until, finally, he felt release, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Okay then! These boys have some issues, eh?


	4. A Tense Situation

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing I say!

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Tense Situation**

_He was at school, walking along a hallway, passing doors he knew were locked. He walked with his destination in mind, all other paths completely irrelevant. The scenery behind him faded to black, and he caught it in his peripheral vision. It didn't matter, though, that there was no going back; he had no intention of doing so. It was the last door, the one at the end he was headed for; it was the one he knew would open when he turned the knob. That was where _he _was waiting for him. He didn't question how he knew this, but he knew as well as he knew his own name, as well as he knew that the day's sky was blue and the summer's grass was green._

_He arrived at the door, reached for the handle without hesitation,went inside and shut it behind him. He didn't bother to flip the light switch, only kept walking. To stop walking seemed both ridiculous and impossible. It was late, past nightfall. He could see the moon through the window, it's unearthly glow casting everything into odd planes and angles shaped by long shadows. It was too bright for last quarter; he could see the figure, could see _him_, so clearly… standing there in silence on the other side of the room, regarding him without any trace of surprise. They were alone in this dark and empty classroom, alone in this building, this school, lectures long over._

_He continued walking, not stopping when he'd reached the spot where _he _stood. Katsuya retreated slowly, every step backward perfectly matched to his steps forward like a strange waltz, and he was leading; he guided until they were against the blackboard, golden eyes never leaving his face. They came to rest there for a moment, each searching the other for answers, for conclusions that neither had found alone._

_He suddenly slammed his fists into the wall on either side of Katsuya's head, tiny particles of chalk catching the moonlight, drifting to the floor and settling in their hair, turning his knuckles white, coating his long fingers. Katsuya didn't even blink, and his eyes held no trace of fear. They showed only calm and patience, the same look they'd had since having been found there, apparently expecting him. Gazing down, he felt himself grow angry at their lack of reaction, and he leaned in, towering over the shorter boy._

_They remained that way for a few moments that felt like eternity, deadlocked in an unbreakable gaze. Katsuya had to tilt his head up until the crown was half-resting on the board's streaked surface, casting the hollows of his cheeks into shadow, making them look as sharp as razors. Their faces were close enough for him to feel Katsuya's breath._

_His anger grew, and then, just as swiftly as it had come, was gone, replaced by feelings of confusion and frustration. _

"_What are you doing to me?" he asked, his voice a whisper so low that it didn't even disturb the fine strands of Katsuya's hair._

_The blond smiled at him slowly, his eyes lighting up in victory; his wait was over. _

"_Nothing," he answered. "You did this to yourself. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"_

_He lifted one hand from the chalkboard, uncurling his fist. He placed it on Katsuya's neck, encircling it, the tips of his fingers pressing into his flesh firmly but without causing pain. He watched the smile of triumph shift into something darker; it was sultry, disturbing and inviting all at once._

_The new smile brought back the anger, but, just as before, it didn't last. His anger was twisting itself into a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't name. It was similar to hunger, but dull and achy rather than sharp. It was spreading through him like wildfire, uncoiling and filling every cell with longing until he thought he would have to tear off his very skin to let it out._

_His hand was clenching around the thin flesh he held there, _his _flesh. It seemed to grow warmer in his hand, nearing the point of burning. He felt his face respond, matching the heat, spreading to his neck, his torso, down, down… Katsuya's eyes widened, but the smile remained. _

_He felt something snap inside him so sharply he could almost hear it. He threw Katsuya to the ground one-handed, and, without a second's pause, threw himself down upon him. _

_They became a jumbled mess of limbs, their mouths tasting every spot of available skin. The layer of clothing that separated them dissolved piece by piece, pulling and ripping when their hasty fingers failed to unfasten and unbutton. They rolled around, grasping each other with their hands and their mouths, trying to writhe out of the remaining shreds of their outfits without letting go. Finally, they were free, and there was only hot, slick flesh, uninterrupted._

"_Yes," he moaned, biting and sucking Katsuya's neck and chest. "Yes, this is what I want, what I always wanted." He was gasping for breath, his words coming in spurts between harsh kisses._

_Katsuya groaned and nodded, biting down on now-tender lips when Seto's mouth teased his sensitive areas, trying and failing not to cry out. The fevered pitch of Katsuya's voice was only intensifying the urgency Seto felt, and he worried those areas longer, more cruelly. Katsuya pulled him up by the hair and pressed their foreheads together, shifting so that the most sensitive parts of them met, fitting together like puzzle pieces. _

_He sucked in cold air, heard Katsuya doing the same. He pressed closer, a low growl escaping him as nerve endings went wild. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, staring into honey-brown depths. They were filled with desire, a mirror of his own. He took Katsuya's wrists in his hands and slammed them on the ground over his head, pinning him down. He felt on the edge of madness, heard himself voicing his tangled stream of thoughts._

"_You want it too, and you will, I can do it, I can do what I want, whatever I want, because you want it too and I feel it, feel you, and you feel like fire…"_

"_Yes," Katsuya breathed, "yes, whatever you want." He writhed under him, and Seto's vision flashed white as his body shuddered with pleasure._

"_Just one thing, Seto," he murmured._

"_God, anything," he cried._

_Katsuya gave him a last look, and it seemed to pierce his soul with its depth and intensity._

"_You have to let it go, Seto._

_Just let it all go."_

Seto looked at the clock, covered in cooling sweat. 3:58 AM. He lay back down, knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. It wouldn't be much longer before his alarm was set to go off, so he would just wait until it he could stand comfortably, then find something to do until it was time for him to get up and start the day. It was no different from the last two nights in this sense. The difference was in the dreams themselves.

The first dream had been disturbing enough, a fuzzy progression of flashbacks of the lap dance, interspersed with still-frame images of touching and kissing him. He'd woken up aroused, followed immediately by twin feelings of fury and shame.

The second had been a bit more realistic, although still distant. He'd been a third party last night, watching himself with Katsuya. That one had begun right in the middle of sex that was occurring, to Seto's dismay, right there in the bed he soon woke up in.

Tonight's, however, had been so real that he could still taste Katsuya's skin on his tongue. It wasn't fading with each moment he was awake, letting him continue on his path of avoidance as the others mercifully had. His traitorous body ached, feeling the sudden absence of close flesh, throbbing in anguish for its loss. He solemnly forced back the urge to give in to it, refusing to entertain such an awful notion with a self-indulgent substitution. Unfortunately, two nights' practice had not made it easier; if anything, the urge was stronger than ever. He finally managed to calm himself, as he had before, but this time took much longer.

Now that his body was back under the control of his mind, he climbed out of bed, ignoring the hollow discomfort that had settled in place of his excitement. He pulled on a dark blue robe that would have inspired anyone to comment on how well it matched his eyes, had anyone ever seen him in it, and went to the small desk at the corner of his room where his laptop sat open. It was nearly two hours before he needed to ready himself to go to school, and he would use the time to get some work done. After a few minutes, he was fully absorbed, the dream receding to the back of his mind for the time being.

In fact, he had spent nearly the whole weekend working, barely pausing to eat or rest; even Mokuba had commented on it, his observation falling on ears that barely heard him. While it was not uncommon for him to work on weekends, he usually limited it to four or five hours a day, spending the rest on more enjoyable activities such as spending time with his brother, or, his favorite part of his occupation, new project development. For him, school was simply a mandatory waste of time, as it was both astonishingly easy and boring to a mind such as his. He was usually more than capable of keeping on top of it and the company during the week. This weekend, though, he had busied himself with tedious paperwork from sunup till sundown, keeping his mind from wandering without even realizing that this was his intention.

His unconscious strategy had been a success; the weekend had passed without any incident, namely further mental breakdowns, and his current position in front of his mini-workstation allowed him to believe that Monday morning had arrived with all the dramatic flair as that of the daily mail. To any who could, hypothetically, know of his situation and nothing of his personality, this display of repression was nothing short of remarkable.

However, since there was no one there who knew of these things, Seto worked away for nearly two hours, blissfully occupied, and only let his laptop shut with a soft click when he heard his brother's soft steps on the stairs.

* * *

Katsuya climbed out of the cab that had stopped in front of Domino High, tipping the driver well before striding across the lawn. He was early, as he had been every day for the last few months. His newfound punctuality was one of many improvements in his educational career; he found it much easier to pay attention, in class and to his homework, when he was not worried about where his father was and where his next meal was coming from. He even slept better… although, the past few nights had been an exception. All weekend, he'd found he couldn't sleep more than a few hours, tension making his eyelids snap open like hastily pulled curtains.

He sighed as he reached the building. This anxiety had to be put to rest before it killed him.

He was anxious now to reach his first class, as it would be as good an opportunity as any to talk to Seto, but his eagerness was tainted with dread. What would happen when he saw him? Would he be rid of his disturbing attraction upon actual contact, and, if not, would he be able to hide it? He shook his head and chuckled.

_I didn't get no answer the first hundred times I asked, neither. I guess my psychic abilities didn't develop this mornin' like I hoped._

He chuckled again. Aside from his lack of rest and self-torturous interrogations, his weekend had passed as so many before it. He'd done his homework, cleaned his apartment, gone to work. He'd gone to the Saturday evening meeting with his father, and even stopped in at the game shop to see his friends. Yuugi, certainly the most observant of the group, had noticed his unusual quiet state of preoccupation and asked him once if something was troubling him, but he'd smiled easily and dismissed it. He wasn't sure his small friend had been convinced, but he hadn't pressed. Katsuya was thankful. Had Yuugi done so, the whole story might have poured out like water from an open tap. Keeping his thoughts to himself had never been one of his strengths, even when it was best for all concerned.

During the day, going about his business as usual had been an easy task. If his mind wandered too far, there was always something going on for him to direct his energies at instead, knowing that another spin on the endless merry-go-round of his thoughts was a rather pointless journey. It was late at night, after returning from the club, sitting alone on his couch or in his room (and even once in the shower) that his mind would inevitably race back to his swirled mass of thoughts about Friday and Seto. He would try again and again to plan out his confrontation, to reason out the mechanics of how to settle things without incurring the wrath of his rival. He wasn't afraid, he'd never been afraid of him; he was more afraid of himself, of the things he may say or do. As soon as that thought was complete, his mind would immediately begin to relentlessly torment him with reminders of his unfortunately directed attraction…and, just as it had the first night, his body would respond, calling for salvation until Katsuya gave in to it.

It was really no wonder he hadn't gotten anywhere in his attempts at soul-searching.

He flushed at the memory, or, rather, memories, his vulgar thoughts rising again to the surface.

_Jeez, I hope this crap dies down soon. I been beatin' it like the damn thing owes me money or somethin'. _He chuckled nervously to himself. _Uh, that's kinda gross, Katsuya. Get a freakin' grip. Ugh, naw, not like that, ugh…_

_What the hell is WRONG with me? I swear I was never a crazy perv with a sick sense of humor before all this._ He chuckled shakily again, both amused and disturbed by his own hormone-influenced mind.

_Influenced? More like totally fuckin' overrun. _

As a result, he hadn't quite formed any game plan regarding how he would bring the topic up with his loins' desire. So, he would have to fall on his backup plan, and do what he usually did, especially when a certain CEO was involved; he would dive in headfirst, without a single thought of the possible consequences.

* * *

Katsuya was soon to find, though, that this was easier decided than executed. He shared most of his classes with Seto, but talking to him at all, even to swap the usual insults, was not received well. As soon as he'd arrived at his class, he'd noticed that Seto was not his usual self. He was sitting, as always, with his laptop open and a look of deep involvement on his face, but he seemed to be carefully avoiding looking anywhere near the door. It was very strange; Seto never missed an opportunity to say something to him, such as, 'Morning, puppy. I see you took your flea bath today,' or, 'I must say, I'm impressed; you found the classroom all by yourself again. It couldn't have been your brains that led you, so tell me, did you follow the scent trail or was it just your canine instincts?'

To which Katsuya would promptly say, 'Oh, good one, moneybags. You musta spent a long time thinkin' that one up, just for little ol' me. Or did you pay one of your corporate lackeys to do it for yeh?'

This morning, though, it would seem that there would be no such exchange. He took his seat, same row and two columns over from Seto, and stared at him, unnoticed. Katsuya was almost saddened by it; he liked the routine, it let him know that another day had started. It was a good way to let off a little steam, and it was always fun trying to get the upper hand in the verbal war. Having it taken away made him feel like he wasn't sure that he, or Seto, were really there at all: like maybe he was actually still in bed, having another of the crazy dreams that were commonplace of late.

He'd tried to shake the feeling off by taking the initiative himself, considering that he just might not have seen him arrive.

"Hey, Kaiba," he'd said.

No response: not even a glance or grumbled, 'Not now, mutt, I'm busy.'

Just as he'd opened his mouth to try again, a group of female classmates filed in and took their seats, turning to him and asking questions about his notes and the assignment that was due. Seto had been as clipped as always, but he hadn't ignored them, even smirking at a particularly loud and curvy member of the herd on one occasion. Katsuya had flushed slightly, but managed to hold it together; he'd never thought much of that slut anyway, and he was sure Seto didn't either. Unfortunately, Katsuya couldn't even wait until they had finished harassing him for his second attempt; they'd babbled and tried to flirt until the teacher had entered and called for attention.

Lunch-time had been more of the same. He'd approached Seto's desk after the bell rang, going against the grain of the flow of students clamoring to get to the cafeteria, but just as he'd reached it Seto had sidestepped and brushed past him without looking up. Before he'd even had a chance to consider going after him, his group of friends had bobbed over from nowhere, and he'd lost sight of the white trail of his coat as it disappeared around a corner.

Katsuya was confused; he wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this certainly wasn't it. Threats, insults… anything but the silent treatment. It was disconcerting to say the least, but Katsuya was not easily discouraged. He realized that he'd have to corner him to get him to talk, and he'd have to wait for the right time to do so. Eventually, the opportunity presented itself, just as the last bell rang.

He heard a soft humming coming from the direction of Seto's coat pocket, followed by his brisk answer. He wasn't on the phone long, but it was long enough for the classroom to empty, leaving the two alone. Seto ended his call and looked up to find Katsuya standing in front of the now-closed door.

"Kaiba, we gotta talk."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "Sorry, mutt, I'd love to, but I'm actually rather busy at the moment." He began shoving things into his case, not meeting eyes with the blond.

Katsuya sighed, but pressed on, not yet ready to admit defeat.

"Ya know, moneybags, I think it's actually kinda important, and I gotta say, I'm surprised you're avoiding me after… Well. After what happened." He paused, not quite sure how to follow this statement.

"Aren'tcha even gonna tell me not to tell anybody or anything?"

"Hmph. As if I need to," he answered, his tone as casual and indifferent as always. "I'm sure you're well aware of what I would do to you if you attempted to use any information about that _inconsequential_ event against me. Now," he said, straightening, his possessions collected, "I'll have to ask you to move away from the exit. I am done here."

"Excuse me?" _Inconsequential? _Katsuya could hardly believe what he was hearing. Seto intended to brush him off and act as if nothing had happened; in fact, it seemed he had already done so. It was what Katsuya had hoped for, or so he'd told himself; but he couldn't help but feel that it was somehow unfair, that he had a right to say his piece too. He wasn't sure he even know what his piece was, but he did know that if Seto Kaiba thought this was another drama that would play out on his terms, he was in for a rude awakening.

"I said, move out of my way." He finally looked up, meeting Katsuya's eyes. In that brief moment, Katsuya saw that, underneath his dismissive and collected mask, fierce anger burned in Seto's gaze, along with…something else. What was it?

It was gone a second later, replaced by the glassy shell he was accustomed to seeing there before he could try to identify it.

At the moment, though, Katsuya hardly cared. He was getting angry, just as Seto apparently was, just as he always managed to become when knowingly in the company of the man before him.

"Nah, I don't think I will," he stated defiantly. "I don't take orders from anybody, rich boy, least of all you."

Seto's lips curved into a superior sort of grimace.

"Of course not. Not unless you're being paid, right?"

Katsuya gaped, his anger growing rapidly until he was shaking with fury. His vision began to glow faintly red as his heart beat climbed with the passion he couldn't suppress, shocked by the words that had gone far beyond the usual quips Seto hurled his way.

_How dare he? How DARE he?_

"Listen here, _Kaiba_," he spat, the last word hurtling from his mouth like a foul-tasting poison. "We do what we gotta do, be it shakin' it for the masses or bein' a cold, cutthroat bastard like yourself to keep your precious company afloat."

_That's enough, Katsuya. You didn't come here to fight. You don't always have to let him get to you, you know,_ his mind tried to reason.

However, Katsuya was far past the point of reason, and his anger pushed him on, his words flying from him mouth before he could stop them.

"I don't know what the hell your sissy problem is, and you know? I really don't give a fuck. I'm real sorry you can't handle what happened, but that ain't my fuckin' problem. That ain't no reason to avoid me, just like you probably been avoiding the whole thing, just like you avoid every fuckin' thing you don't get to plan out and build and control all by yourself." He was yelling now, saying things he hadn't known were inside of him to say.

"Honestly, I don't care much about the whole thing either, but at least I got the guts to bring it up. You can go ahead and be a coward if you want. Hell, you can pretend you don't even know me from now on, if it's too fuckin' heavy for you. But don't you start saying shit about what I do with my life, like you're any better. Like you ain't just a whore like me, doin' whatever it takes to get what you need.

"But ya know, funny thing is, I don't remember you having anythin' to say about my work last time I saw you. As a matter of fact, you seemed to be really _enjoyin'_ yourself, if you get my drift," he sneered.

"Unless your cell phone's a lot bigger than I think it is."

Katsuya had barely finished his sentence when Seto was upon him, towering menacingly. He, too, radiated fury now, no longer the calm, calculating figure he had always appeared to be, even in the most heated arguments they'd had in the past. It was amazing to see him display so much emotion; even his voice trembled, no longer the cold, flat tone he almost always maintained.

"Thanks for the insight. Now, allow me to repeat myself, and I'll use small words so that you'll understand, you idiotic flea-bag. This conversation is over. Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

_Shit. Way to go, smart guy. This just got a lot worse, and it really didn't have to. Now you're gonna get your ass kicked, like always, and it's probably gonna turn you on this time, you sick, stupid fuck._

Katsuya knew he'd gone too far. He swallowed and shut his eyes, bracing himself, still tense and angry. However, he knew that if Seto raised a hand to him, he wouldn't try to stop him. He would take whatever was coming to him at this point; he'd all but earned it with his last comment. He'd punch a few walls later if his anger wasn't gone by then, and if he came out in one piece, he'd consider himself lucky.

When no blows or further words came, however, he cracked his eyes open to find himself looking into the deep blue ones that were mere inches from his face. In that moment, the flicker of emotions passed by once more. Realization flooded him.

Fear. It was anger and fear he saw there.

_Damn, I didn't just piss him off, I think I hit a nerve. He almost looks like he's gonna…cry…or something. Crazy._

His own anger deflated when he saw that look, replaced by desire that the unusually human expression had triggered, that only the fury had been able to hold back; it was the same slow throb he'd felt whenever he'd imagined the physical closeness that was currently a reality, exactly what he'd feared would come upon him while in Seto's presence. He hadn't been afraid before, but he was certainly afraid now.

He spoke once more, his voice a level above a whisper, trembling slightly. "What the hell're ya tryin' to run away from me for, Kaiba? Ya scared of me or somethin'?"

It was not a challenge, but a question that Katsuya knew he needed answered. He had to know what could crack the impenetrable force field that was Seto Kaiba, if they could even possibly be scared for the same reason.

Seto's hand shot out and closed around the blond's throat, unaware until the moment of connection that this action would be the one to ultimately betray him. The contact sent crackling waves of heated energy through them both, and a deep red began to creep across both of their cheeks: for Katsuya, it was simply a darkening of the stain his anger had left, and for Seto, a dramatic splash of color against his very white complexion.

Katsuya's eyes widened; he had his answer now, whether Seto knew he had told him or not.

_Holy shit. _

_He wants it just as bad as I do._

Seto was shaking as badly as Katsuya now, fighting the heat that was rippling through him from the touch that had been meant only to intimidate.

"Don't make me force you. I am leaving this room, Jounochi, with or without your cooperation." His voice had taken a pleading tone that rang in his ears, sending a thin spike of self-loathing through his mind. He leaned closer, trying desperately to frighten him.

Katsuya's breath caught at the decrease in space between them, unsure what was happening. He saw that Seto had stopped no more than three inches away, and he tried smiling at him, his nervousness making it twitchy and strained.

"You gonna kill me or kiss me, Kaiba?"

He felt his mouth dry out. He hadn't really meant to say that. He licked his lips as Seto stared, the fear in his eyes turning into panic, seemingly unable to believe the situation had gone so far out of his control.

"Either way, I'm not moving…" he started. He paused, his mind spinning at his own display of recklessness.

_Oh well. Fuck it. No goin' back now._

"…and either way, I won't try to stop you. It's your choice.

"The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

Seto faltered, and in the moment that he let his guard down, the heat rushed him; he was suddenly overcome with the raw desire he'd so far been able to stave off. The words hung in the air, and Seto stared down at his own hand, its position and Katsuya's question both far too familiar. His mind spun crazily, the uncanny similarity of the situation blurring the line between his dream and reality. It was too much.

He shoved Katsuya away from him roughly, sending him into a nearby desk, watched him almost fail to keep his balance. He pulled the door open and ran into the hall, out of the building, and all the way to his awaiting limo as if the demons of hell were chasing him.

* * *

Eek! Poor Seto. Things would be so much easier for him if he would just stop with the whole control issue thing...but then again, it wouldn't be any fun to try and break him down. Heh heh.


	5. And Now, For Something Comepletely Diffe

Hello all!

Thanks, as always, to everyone who's come along for this ride; I hope you'll all stay with me, because even I don't know how this will end. I only know that neither of these lovely boys can deny their attraction much longer… although, their emotions will, naturally, be another matter…

Disclaimer: I do not own or hold copyrights to any of this stuff.

A one and-a two and-a-

* * *

**Chapter 5: And Now, For Something Completely Different...**

Katsuya heard the retreating footsteps fade, too shocked by his own actions and broken by their consequences to consider chasing him. He slumped against the desk he had crashed into, his head in his hands. When the tears born of confusion and frustration came, he welcomed them, let the release wash over him, glad for an outlet to the seemingly enormous battle that was taking place inside. He cried and cried, as he hadn't since he'd been young, as only the helpless can cry. And, when small arms came around him, he clutched them, choked screams muffled in the soft blue cloth of Yuugi's jacket.

"It's okay, Katsuya, shh, it's okay…"

"It isn't!" he screamed. "It isn't and it never will be." Hearing his own cries, how desperate and pitiful they sounded, fresh tears rolled down his face, warming the trails of the old.

Yuugi's small hands only held him tighter, rubbing small, comforting circles into his back, letting him weep until his keening had died down to soft sobs and whimpers.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

_Oh, fuck._

* * *

It was Friday, and the fourth day since Seto had made an appearance at school. Katsuya entered his classroom; not bothering to look two seats over for the presence he both craved and dreaded. He knew there would be no one there. He pulled his textbook from his bag and read quietly, shutting it only when he knew he'd read the same sentence no less than forty times. It was no use. He hadn't been able to focus on anything all week.

His embarrassment was only a small part of it. The rest was guilt, and it ran so deep; it was as deep as the guilt he'd felt when Yuugi had defended him after he'd been so cruel to him, as deep as when he'd thought it was his own fault his mother and sister had left him. He hadn't realized the truth in his own statements when he'd accused Seto of being a coward and a liar, but now it seemed obvious that, not only were these things true, but that Seto was nowhere near ready to deal with them, nor much of anything else.

It was just so startling; he'd been fooled by the cold, collected shell, he hadn't known that Seto'd had any buttons to push until he'd already managed to do so. His anger had gotten the best of him. Again. What he was left with was a sort of hollow feeling, like he'd ruined an opportunity that wouldn't come twice.

He had spent so much time thinking of nothing and no one else; it had become clear to him what the life of Seto Kaiba must be like. He was raising his brother at an age when he still needed raising himself, running a company when he should be working his first entry-level job. And when he'd looked into those steely blue eyes, he knew now that he could have seen a million other factors if he'd only looked a bit closer, other events and responsibilities that he couldn't even begin to guess at. Even so, just from what little Katsuya knew of his life, it wasn't so hard to understand why he was so icy and emotionless all the time. He'd been robbed of the chance to develop things like social skills and ways to express himself, living in a world where he couldn't afford to do anything but put away childish things, even when childish things might be the only ones that could have provided him with any kind of outlet.

_Aw, come on now, you knew. Even if you didn't _know_, you knew enough. You could have put the pieces together. You could have figured out why he is the way he is, and really, you could have figured out why it bothered you so much. Why else would you keep trying to get him to react all the time? Weren't you just trying to get him to let his defenses down, to open up a little? Even if it was just enough to start yelling at you? Weren't you always bugging him, trying to duel him or fight him every time he tried to leave? Oh yeah, you knew _something _was up, don't even try to play like you didn't. _

_You just didn't try to understand it. _

_And then, just 'cause you got a little crush on him, he's suddenly worth the effort it took to figure all this **really obvious shit** out, huh? You couldn't have given it a second of your freakin' time before you fucked up his life even worse? Oh yeah, you understand it now, though, and now you're all fuckin' emotional about it, when really, you got no right to be. _

_You haven't changed at all, Katsuya. You're still the stupid bully you used to be, only you play head games now, and those bruises take longer to heal. He won't even come to school now, 'cause he can't stand the thought of looking at you. It's too late for sorry, buddy, the damage is fuckin' done, and you should feel bad, dammit. Maybe next time you get a hard-on for someone, you won't have to insult the crap out of 'em and run 'em off before you figure out you like 'em._

He couldn't help it; over and irreversible as it may be, he was overwhelmed with shame for adding to the burden of one who needed it like a hole in the head. It was so clear to him now! Seto had every right to shy away from what had happened between them. Simple attraction couldn't possibly be so simple for him, and if he'd reacted by repressing, Katsuya didn't, couldn't, blame him. He certainly hadn't meant to force such a realization on him… or, rather, he wouldn't have meant to, if he'd had this epiphany sooner.

It was just too bad, he'd sadly concluded, that there was less than no chance of anything about their "relationship" improving, not ever. It had taken driving him over the edge to make him realize he wanted to pull Seto back. He'd figured it out too late that only patience and understanding could bring Seto out, and that, now, when he understood the mechanics of why Seto couldn't allow himself to feel, he knew that what he'd done had surely only made him close up tighter.

Enveloped in these thoughts, he drifted through the rest of his day just as he had the three before it, responding automatically when teachers and friends addressed him. He went home and spent the rest of the evening brooding in his room, not taking calls or doing his usual housework. It wasn't until he saw the clock turn seven that he even remembered that he had to work. He sighed heavily and lifted himself from his face down position on his bed, grabbing his keys and his bag before calling a feeble goodbye to his father and letting himself out into the chilly evening.

* * *

At the club, another fat, bald man was waiting for his mystery dance. Katsuya gave it to him, but those in the audience who had seen the one given to the tall, chiseled man a week before could see that they were worlds apart. He did everything as he meant to, giving as good a performance as always, meshing spontaneity with signature moves and creating the experience that kept the club full night after night. But, now that he had experienced the excitement he'd felt when he'd danced for Seto, it somehow seemed even more pointless and degrading than usual.

When it was over, he continued with his set, then the next, and then the third and final of the night. Apparently, at work he was even less capable of keeping his mind from going back to its favorite subject, its obsession, and over and over he would try to mentally shake the thoughts and images back down to the bottom of the sea of his conscious. It seemed in vain, and he began to wonder just why he was having such trouble, why he couldn't keep his focus… until he realized that he also couldn't keep his eyes from focusing on a figure who stood at the very back, near the door, in the shadows. A tall, lean figure, with an arrogant stance that seemed very familiar…

_No way. Couldn't be._

Nonetheless, he found himself rushing from the dressing room towards the front door, trying to push through his admirers as politely as possible, his heart pounding as he scanned face after face. He didn't find Seto, as he'd reluctantly known he wouldn't, but neither did he find the man he'd seen from the stage.

The next night, Saturday, he saw the figure again. He squinted, trying to make out details, straining fruitlessly, until the man suddenly stepped forward, coming into partial light. Brown eyes met blue, and Katsuya gasped. It was him!

He smiled a real smile, brighter than the sultry smirk he always wore when he danced, and turned away to cross the stage to the pole on the right… but when he turned back, the shadows were empty. He had slipped out again.

Walking home, Katsuya couldn't help but feel disappointed.

_Why so glum? Got yourself worked up over nothin', eh? _

_Come on. He's skippin' school to avoid you. Why would he show up at your work? You think you're so hot he can't resist seein' you, ahem, "shake it for the masses," as you put it?_

He sighed and shook his head. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he'd been so sure when he'd seen those eyes. He'd _known_ it was him.

_Oh well. Wishful thinkin' combined with an overactive imagination, I guess._

He had fully convinced himself that he'd been wrong by the time he reached his door, deciding that if he really did ever see him again, he was just going to apologize and then go on his pathetic, merry way.

Which, naturally, made it shocking when he came out of the wings on Sunday night to find him right there, sitting as calmly and looking as bored as a six-year-old at the opera, centered in front of the stage.


	6. Total Overload

Disclaimer: PUNK ROCK!!

**Chapter 6: Total Overload**

Katsuya blinked just once.

A torrid flood of thoughts plowed through him in the fractional space in time that his lids rested side by side, over almost too quickly to have been there at all.

_No way. Un-fucking–believable. It's gotta be a look-alike or somethin'. It's a trick, he's tryin' to get back at me, fuck with my head. There's no way. No way, uh-uh. _

And then they reflexively parted, showing him that it was indeed the man he wanted to be sitting there, that Seto had not miraculously evaporated and showed himself to be the stunning illusion his mind had so fleetingly tried to convince him it was. He felt himself smile a real smile, stretching out and authenticating the sultry smirk he always wore when he danced. He let it speak for him as he hungrily devoured the image before him, savoring it as if he were still afraid it would wink out like a dream under the attack of a buzzing alarm.

_Well, ain't it funny seein' you here. Again. _

_Welcome back, _that smile said.

Seto was looking into his eyes, unblinking, his facial expression unchanged from the emotionless, blank-slate nothingness that perpetually settled there. He usually managed to somehow appear so unruffled that Katsuya had once told him he likely wouldn't get any wrinkles until the third stage of decomposition, that he would freakishly look just as he did at seventeen when he was an old man. At the time, Katsuya had said the words mockingly, but now, as he examined Seto, he was seeing that concept in a new way. He was studying him like an artist does his subject, with all the desire and affection he harbored deep in his core. He was living and breathing Seto's face at that moment, and he marveled as two previously unnoticed aspects of his expression (or lack thereof) revealed themselves to him in a wave of understanding.

Seto's terribly well-structured face was not simply beautiful: it was breathtakingly, heartbreakingly so, a fact Katsuya had realized long ago, ages before he'd admitted it to even himself. Seto's lovely face was old news to him, albeit news he was compelled to review again and again; it was etched into his mind with such clarity and vivid detail that it was as if Seto had carved it there himself, just to torture him. Yes, Seto was quite pretty, but what was so extraordinary about Seto's face had little to do with its perfect design. Katsuya knew that wasn't the reason he was staring at him in wonder, suddenly overcome and oblivious to any and all else.

Most people, attractive or no, were constantly sporting some look that related their appearance to their thoughts and feelings. These visible, physical shifts were necessary, allowing others to glimpse the true appeal of both their features and their natures. It was so much easier to see beauty in a smiling mouth, to see ugliness in a frown. Seto's face was different, Katsuya realized. It was _because_ it was so placid, without the emotional contortions that brought most faces to life, that Katsuya was able to see Seto as he was. The pond-like stillness of Seto's face served as a sort of platform, a backdrop meant only to accompany, and not detract from, the one feature that Katsuya cherished most.

Only his eyes held any trace of the spark of awareness that must only blink out with his consciousness, the beginnings of a fire that Katsuya had always so loved to push and feed until it became an all-consuming inferno. It had been Seto's eyes which, crackling and spitting with anger and determination during their many liaisons, had ultimately shown and proved to Katsuya that the blue-white base of any flame burns the hottest.

Katsuya shivered at the thought, deepening his stare. That blaze wasn't there just then, and only the sharp embers were immediately evident, but… he could see something. _Yeah, there's…_

Something more, lurking in their oceanic depths… It looked like a-

A what?

_Damn if this guy isn't a bitch and a half to try an' read. What is it? What's that look?_

A question?

No. Close, but not quite. He'd seen it before.

He'd seen it when Seto had been testing him, daring him into a competition.

A challenge.

That gaze held a challenge for him. Seto was initiating another competition with his stare. Katsuya held it, the cheers and whistles no more than a faint roar in his ears. It was short lived, though… much as he would have loved to stay in the silent stalemate indeterminately, the song was starting. He had work to do.

And so he danced, the air around him alive, every move for Seto's benefit. He didn't think; he simply moved, his instincts guiding him. He felt viciously aware physically, and his mind refrained from clouding him with confusion or fear, for once working with instead of against him. His only thought was the beat of the music, his only concern the man who sat a few feet away.

There were three songs each to the first two sets, and each one seemed to last both a single moment and an entire era, time a broken and ever-shifting dimension that had slipped away as soon as those intense eyes had met his own. Although he never showed any reaction, he never looked away from Katsuya's slinking, crawling, shimmying form either as he played across the stage, meeting his unflinching gaze whenever he wasn't turned away.

Three tracks later, he found himself reluctant to make his exit, doing so more out of habit than desire to recuperate. Once he had left the stage, though, he found that all the tension he had been blissfully free of during the set had been waiting to swoop down upon him in the solace of his break. He fanned himself furiously during the short intermission, peeking around the corner to ensure Seto was still in attendance. He was nearly caught twice before he convinced himself to stop, and the rest of the interlude whizzed by, denying him the chance to over-think the situation.

He emerged a second time, and found no change. Seto was still just where Katsuya'd left him, waiting. Seeing him, knowing he had chosen to stay, felt like a victory. He smiled… the war wasn't over, but he felt better now that the first battle was his. Then… Lights, music, and he was on.

This set was only more of the same, Katsuya doing his best to communicate with Seto using only his flowing, seductive movements, letting uninhibited excitement and want show on his face as the last of his anxiety melted away. Seto had come to see the show, had _challenged_ him to make it worth his time. He would soon find that Katsuya had risen to the occasion admirably.

His third and final set was always the same, a single song meant to close the show with a bang. He quickly chose one, sending out the message to the DJ through a domino chain of employees. He nodded at Katsuya from his booth and put it on, the song that could express in words what his movements alone already had.

"Come over here," whispered a low, sexy voice over the system.

An insistent guitar riff started up, punctuating the throaty declarations of the singer as Katsuya made his final stage entrance of the evening.

"All you've got is this moment…" purred the voice that dripped with insinuation, and Katsuya began a pole dance with a pace that was excruciatingly slow compared to the more frantic nature of all those previous. He sauntered around it, his hand clasped around its cylindrical length, then suddenly hooked one leg around and twirled at a dizzying speed as the first verse melted into the bridge.

"So slide over here,

and give me a moment;

your moves are so raw,

I've got to let you know…"

Katsuya cocked an eyebrow at Seto, smiling at his as the next line poured down into their ears.

"You're one of my kind."

The singer's voice took on a more desperate tone with the chorus, and Katsuya mirrored it in his dance, leaning forward and running one hand slowly over his own body, the other fastened to the stage's fixture.

"I need you tonight… 'Cause I'm not sleeping.

There's something about you… that makes me _sweat_."

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and cast it down to the floor, showing Seto that he was indeed coated in a pearly gleam. Retaking his hold on the cold metal, he let his eyes drift shut for a moment, taking one blind spin on the pole. He opened them and kicked the discarded garment casually, sending it off of the stage and squarely into Seto's lap.

"So how do you feel?

I'm lonely," Katsuya mouthed along, standing before the pole, his arms stretched behind him. He crossed his ankles and tilted his head to the side, swinging gently from side to side, his mouth curving into a slight pout. It gave him a look of decrepit naiveté that suited the schoolgirl outfit well.

"What do ya think?

Can't think at all!"

Katsuya held on one handed, twisted around, and bent backwards toward the audience, a step reminiscent of one done over a week before while sitting atop Seto's lap.

"Whatcha gonna do?

Gonna live my life…"

Katsuya straightened and grasped the pole firmly, his hands and legs reaching and pulling as he climbed up toward the ceiling, to where the lights shone, casting him into a near-silhouette.

"I need you tonight," the chorus repeated. The song was more than halfway over, he knew. Katsuya surveyed the audience from his high altitude before settling once more on Seto. He gave him a mischievous grin, blew him a kiss, and then launched into his riskiest move to date. He held on with his legs and let go with his hands, hanging upside down, his pleated skirt settling between his legs so as to cover his more sensitive area, while exposing the lean muscle of his legs almost up to where they met with his hips. He paused for a moment, suspended and bathed in the bright glow of the lights just a few feet away, before gripping the pole once more and releasing his legs' hold. He was almost airborne for a split second, his legs apart to catch the pole between them once more, flipping back to upright in a rather acrobatic move that left the crowd screeching.

"So how do ya feel?"

Katsuya spiraled down slowly, put his feet back on the ground, and began to crawl toward the near-hysterical audience.

"Whattaya think?"

He stopped in front of Seto and reached out to grab his shirt collar, pulling him into a standing position, kneeling on the stage so they were eye to eye.

"Whatcha gonna do?"

Apparently, his careful inaction had come to a close. Seto placed his hand on Katsuya's and wrenched it off before climbing onto the stage in one graceful, giant step, moving behind him as Katsuya swiveled to face him.

"How do you feel?"

The music of the song cut off abruptly, the singer shouting his response into the silence as Katsuya looked up at Seto from his position below.

"I'm lonely!"

Katsuya rocked back on his heels and stood swiftly at the tiny pause in the song that followed, and for that last thirty seconds, Seto was his new pole. He clutched the slim waist, circling him, pressing against him, sliding his hands under his shirt to caress the torso he had thought of so often.

He came around to face him once more, let his hands drop to his sides. As the music cut off again and the singer's last line swirled in the quiet, he reached out to clasp Seto's chin with slick fingertips.

"You're one of my kind."

A heartbeat of hesitation…

And then Seto's long arms wrapped around him and pulled him off of his feet, tossed him over his shoulder effortlessly. He marched off the stage and out of the club, Katsuya only waving uncertainly at his fans from his perch as he was escorted through the coat room (past a very wide-eyed coat girl) and out to the limo that was running and ready to go.


	7. Boiling Point

6/6/08: Wow, I remember this. To think how little I knew back then... the most important error has been fixed, but otherwise I left it pretty much the same. Hope it's even half as well received as the first time.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yugioh. And you don't own me, nooo-o, I'm not just one of your many toys...

* * *

**Chapter 7:** **Boiling Point**

Katsuya landed on the floor of Seto's ride with a thud, tossed in just as he'd been tossed over Seto's rigid shoulder like a rescued victim of an apartment fire. His eyebrows lifted at this somewhat alarming ability. For being so thin, Seto was apparently freakishly strong. He wondered if Seto was used to hurling full-grown people to and fro; Katsuya wasn't exactly fat, but he was sure he was weightier than the sack of feathers he was beginning to feel like. For all the strain Seto showed in lifting and hauling him around, he might as well have been a beach ball.

Seto followed, no sign of exertion on his face, only stepping gracefully into the over-sized back seat and settling into the leathery expanse of the row, gazing down at a still-sprawled Katsuya. Both were quiet for the next few moments, and Katsuya made an attempt at evaluating the situation. The vehicle was moving, although Seto hadn't seemed to give any directions as to their destination.

Where they were heading was the last thing on Katsuya's mind, though, so long as it was somewhere dark and private. His thoughts flew at the same speed as his heart, hammering in the center of him. He was almost afraid to speak, as if this were all a delicate and elaborate spell he might break with his spoken words. He held them in for as long as he could as they rose and bubbled, a brew that had reached the boiling point.

There were so many questions, though, that he couldn't help but eventually fold. They streamed from him in a slew, asking one and then the next, not even pausing to wait for answers.

"What's going on? Why are you here? Why weren't you at school? I thought you hated me or somethin'. I guess you don't, though, I mean, maybe you do, but you're here, so, uh, why? I mean, not that it bothers me, I'm just sort of confused, I mean… I just haven't seen you since that one day… when… I thought you were… I mean… I thought I wouldn't see you… anymore…" he trailed, his rant fading away as his captor's silence took root, settling all around them once more. Their eyes were locked again, Seto's unreadable, Katsuya's brimming with confused amazement.

Katsuya watched with a growing sense of surrealism as Seto leaned down and extended a hand, a gesture of assistance that was so unfamiliar in his dealings with the man that he found it almost funny; but he had no sooner than lifted his arm into the sphere of Seto's reach when he felt himself yanked into his lap roughly, his prior amusement startled into excitement tinged with fear.

_God damn, this guy's fuckin' strong!_

In a fairly impressive display of quickly asserted physical dominance, Seto had managed to get both of Katsuya's hands locked behind his back, held by just one of Seto's impossibly large ones, his long fingers grinding the delicate bones of his wrists together in a way that was both painful and thrilling. Seto was definitely in charge here, and the thought sent shivers down his spine.

He smiled impishly, testing the resistance of Seto's grip, his eyes sparkling when it tightened in response. They had taken on the look of fine crystal, and he went lightheaded as his voice acted independently of him once again, adopting a tone so sultry it was a purr, the words far too bold for Katsuya to have concocted of his own accord.

"Hey now, tough guy, if you missed me so much, then where've-"

"Shut up," Seto said in that commanding tone of his, the one that always managed to echo with finality, even in the back of a limo that had no acoustics at all.

Katsuya closed his mouth with an abrupt snap, thankful to have been startled out of his temporary loss of verbal control, glad it was in time to avoid a so-far pleasant (although wildly unpredictable) situation's untimely end and decline into another fight or similar silly thing. He knew this was his chance, a rare favor he'd all but given up hope on after their… thing… at school.

Hell, he'd been sure they'd never speak again, much less share another personal space bubble.

So, then, was he going to try to talk to him again, or maybe offer an apology? Had that been his plan? He didn't know. This was one setup he hadn't anticipated for their next meeting.

His breathing was jagged, and he trembled slightly, unintentionally making small movements that could be conveyed as attempts to writhe out of Seto's grasp, earning him ever-stricter levels of constraint. There would be no leaving for Katsuya, at least not till Mr. Really Sexy And Really Terrifying decided otherwise. His cheeks' temperature zigzagged between burning and icy, and a thin layer of fresh sweat seeped slowly from his hairline.

As if on cue, the final battle was lost and the skirt-covered part of him began to warm as well, starting from the jut of his hipbones all the way down to the backs of his knees, making the hairs on his legs stand up.

Jounochi had never considered himself a fan of S & M, but he was apparently enjoying his introduction to its subtle art. He felt like the situation had gone completely out of his control, and he scrambled for the words he'd thought they would exchange.

His wrists were throbbing, and he wished Seto would unclench a bit, but… He leaned slightly, felt a mild pull in his shoulders as his elbows locked, his arms stretched to full length behind him. Seto's eyes glinted, and his stomach did a little flip.

He liked it; he didn't want him to let go. Officially. His apprehension seemed to only feed into his twisted enjoyment; he couldn't explain it, but the entrapment was so _enticing,_ and it seemed strangely appropriate…

And just what was it that Katsuya had thought they were going to talk about?

It was rather hard to think clearly from his position, really; he was straddling Seto Kaiba, after all. What was more, he was atop the person he'd been fantasizing about for the last week, and he was finally beginning to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

Seto's other hand took firm hold of his chin, and another feather-light caress of fear and exhilaration made his spine straighten and his eyes widen; a half-breath caught halfway in his throat and turned his face, astonishingly enough, a shade redder than before.

Oh yes, the space bubbles had definitely been breached.

Katsuya let the situation fully sink in, hardly able to wrap his mind around it. He had imagined this (or something similar) so often lately; he knew how it would be by heart, how they both would want it to be. Now, it appeared he might be about to realize those graphic visions and find out for certain.

He'd told Seto when they'd argued that he needed to be in control, and it was true; moreover, he knew that this situation was no exception. But, unlike their other moments together, he didn't want to play at a power struggle this time. Seto had the upper hand, and Katsuya had no wish to challenge him. He wanted Seto to take the role of aggressor. He wanted to give that up to him, to be taken, to need be concerned only with feeling and experiencing, to follow along without the pressure that comes with leadership.

And, well,working under pressure did seem to be more Seto's forte, after all.

In fact, it had occurred to Katsuya that attempting to initiate anything with him, instead of just passively participate, might just turn out to be a very bad idea, since mental stability was not exactly a given when it came to the man seated under him. It was likely better to let Seto do what he wanted, whatever it was, at least in the beginning, and hope it would be what he wanted, too.

His eyes drifted shut, and he deliberately relaxed every muscle in his body, leaning into and against Seto, letting his body language be his white flag.

_You wanna be in control, right? _

_It's fine with me. I submit, I concede._

_However you wanna put it._

He chewed one corner of his lip as his brow furrowed ever so slightly, faint dread beading on the solid surface of his tension, coloring it and filling his stomach with something that felt like an abnormally large and hyperactive Can of Worms.

He felt his eyelids squeeze together more firmly, pulling and pushing air through his lungs in forced rhythm, waiting for Seto to do whatever he was going to do.

_Just, please, don't decide to suddenly pretend you don't want me, 'cause I can tell that you do. You won't fool me._

_Just-_

_Just don't run again. _

_I'll chase ya this time._

Katsuya's change in posture from independent to submissive was not lost on him; Seto smiled blackly, lighting up his face in a somewhat creepy way that was still sunnier than his smirk. He did like to be in charge, after all.

He clamped down briefly on the wrists that he clutched in an already death-like grip, enjoying Katsuya's slight flinch and sharp exhalation, the way his lips seemed to unseal as they parted.

_Where have I been?_ Seto thought, reflecting on the question he hadn't allowed Katsuya to ask completely a few moments ago, his mouth lifting into something between a grimace and a wistful smile as he turned Katsuya's head to one side, looking at his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder and shirtless torso.

His hand went around to the back of his head and pulled that neck to his lips, pressing them against it, motionless. Katsuya let his head fall back an inch further, as if in offering, radiating pure want and anticipation.

Seto scrutinized it from his close vantage in the fleeting glow of the streetlights, flickering dimly through the tinted windows. He memorized the lines and planes and angles and textures, both with his eyes and the soft trail of energy he left with a brush of his lips; he felt the hungry feeling again, and it was stronger than ever this round, coming back to claim him with a vengeance.

He shut his eyes tightly, his cheek settled into the curve of neck that had clearly been molded to cradle him perfectly. Katsuya inhaled with an almost inaudible gasp at the contact of Seto's skin to his own, unwittingly groaning softly as he let it out.

_I haven't been doing much, so... I've been nowhere, really. _

_Just locked in my house, pacing and muttering and pulling my hair out, trying not to think about you, Jounochi. _

He breathed deeply, smirking slightly at the minute shudders of the other boy as he exhaled against his skin. Katsuya made another tiny sound and shifted in his lap, pulling the fabric of Seto's clothing across his skin in a way that made his mind whirl and his heart drum at twice its former speed.

It wasn't so different from his lap dance at all, when he thought about it. He watched Katsuya's mouth turn up at the corners, his eyebrows raising slightly as a familiar appendage made itself known to the underside of his thigh.

He shifted again, deliberately this time, and Seto's lips separated in a silent moan.

_I've been trying not to go back to that fucking club, trying not to want to... do things... to you... that I've never wanted to do to anybody else. _

_Things that always seemed incredibly foolish and unnecessary. _

He could smell Katsuya, sweaty and reeking of something sweet and hot, like caramelized sugar. The smell was driving him crazy, almost angry with desire.

_I couldn't do it, though, I had to come. _He let a thin wisp of blond hair run through his fingers, a movement more bittersweet than tender or affectionate. He shook his head very softly to himself.

_I had to see you. _

_You've penetrated my mind, mutt. You've commanded that an invasion of my thoughts be carried out,hatched an attack so few have ever tried before; and, as far as I've found, this is the first time I couldn't shut it out. _

_Well, I still can't shut it out. I'm failing. I am failing to shut you out and remove you from my head. I don't think there's much hope for me anymore._

_Honestly, I've failed already, just by coming here._

Seto was still trying to hold on, the poor, stubborn thing, but his willpower was so far gone already. After all, he'd shown up, hadn't he? Just that must have taken a surrender the likes of which no Kaiba had ever done. He'd shown up, been used as an accessory to a performance, even carried Katsuya off like some kind of carnival prize. He may as well have clubbed him over the head like a caveman who'd chosen a wife.

It was, to him, the worst kind of defeat. He'd lost to himself, unable to keep his thoughts in good order.

Then again, if 'failure' meant a very personalized striptease from the object of one's obsession, then maybe, hopefully,one would think it wasn't so bad not to win once in a while.

Seto gathered Katsuya to him a bit, one-armed,and inhaled the caramel smell again, let it travel all the way up to his brain, swirling and expanding until it coated the inside of his skull and slowed his remaining thoughts while speeding his pulse.

_Where have I been,_ Seto pondered again with a dry, inward chuckle, _is that what you wanted to know?_

His cheek still rested against the warm, curvy home it had found, but his hand had slid from his chin down to the unclothed torso below, drawing meaningless symbols and patterns on canvas-bare skin.

_I've been hiding, _he answered himself, _and_ _being every bit the coward you said I am. _

He shook his head gently as the truth of his own words settled around him, listening to himself think.

_I've been trying to resist you, calling me like the bloody siren you are, tempting me to rush blindly towards my demise. _

He grazed a tiny protrusion, a discrepancy in the near-uniform flatness of his hand's ballroom, pausing to dance with it until, when he felt it grow as hard as a piece of candy, he heard Katsuya wail for him to stop. The sound had made his ears tingle, and he addressed the nub again, relishing the feeble protests in the breathless voice that responded.

_And so here I am, I have answered, and now I don't know what the hell else I can do. I've tried everything. _

_I even skipped school, hoping a few days away from you would be enough for the dreams and flashbacks to stop. They have to stop so I can live my fucking life._

Seto's hand was becoming more and more adventurous as his thoughts began to frustrate him, leaving Katsuya breathing hard and unsure of how much more he could be teased without his sanity becoming a casualty to this encounter.

He groaned as Seto's arm crossed over his legs, nudging against him in a way that may or may not have been intentional. He opened his eyes to look at him, pulling very slightly against the grip once again until the blue orbs were trained on him.

"Please."

It was said in such a low tone that he shouldn't have been able to hear it, but Seto felt and heard the word in his ears and mind and gut; it was the introduction to the maniacal laughter ringing through the auditorium inside his head, as the mega-control-freak aspect of his personality reveled in this plain position of power, over both the situation and the boy.

Seto let him laugh, but he didn't share the humor, really. He knew that it was a hollow victory, a triumph gained on the path to defeat.

His hand strayed now to the hem of the skirt Katsuya still wore, lightly stroking the place where it dusted the shapely, almost girlishly thin thigh of his right leg, crawling up toward the waistband centimeter by centimeter.

_I've done a lot of trying, and a lot of failing, these past few days; so, to save time, I'll just go ahead and accept this failure too. _

_I haven't really seen any dire consequences yet._

"Please," he heard again, this time loud enough to be sure the blond had said it. He was pleading, just on the verge of begging, for Seto to stop his torture.

Katsuya was rocking very subtly in his lap, and his vision was losing focus like an old television screen.

"Either run away or give in, Seto, but pick one before I get so hyped I gotta help myself right here."

Seto's eyes grew comically round and his very pale complexion began to glow faintly pink. He only needed a millisecond of _that_ mental image to make his call.

And so, the very last shreds of his reluctance and ability to form rational thoughts broke off and drifted away, and he fastened his mouth to the tender flesh of Katsuya's throat. When that last bit of hesitation gave way to full contact, it was like putting a match to a gas-soaked pile of kindling: a raging bonfire, as huge as their newly unleashed desires, with a core that was blinding and intensely savage. He bit and sucked and kissed like Katsuya's neck was ambrosia, spawning heated cries of pleasure that only fueled his ferocity in an unbroken cycle of passionate physical contact.

He kissed everything he could reach, kissed in a way that was more of an assault than anything else- his shoulders, his lips, his jaw- all with bruising force that would leave Katsuya a mass of purple in the morning. His fingers snarled in thick blond hair, ran up and down his sides, slid under his skirt and demanded entrance.

He vaguely noticed that his own shirt was mysteriously coming undone, being pushed over his shoulders, the folds settling in the crooks of his arms as Katsuya stealthily uncovered his skin. He egged Seto on with his own fingers' dance on the chest he'd so stealthily revealed, a reprise of his own torture of nerve stimulation, though performing without the brute force Seto had managed to turn exquisite.

Katsuya dizzily stroked and teased his back and collarbone, then clamped down and scratched when Seto's teeth found him. He pulled at the sleeves until Seto's shirt finally let him go, then reached out to feel the deceptively narrow arms, lingering on the slight yet firm mounds of his biceps. He caught patches of Seto in his mouth when he could, running the tip of his tongue over an earlobe, under a jaw line, at the soft spot where the two met, tasting him like wine until he became drunk with it. He loved it, how it felt, like diving from very high up; it was the feeling of giving in, the relief and joy of letting go blended with the thrill of living an impossible fantasy. His inhibitions were falling away faster than he could recall what they had been, his vision stained with crazed and frantic lust, spinning out of control.

Seto's urgency was even fiercer, his mind even more blank and focused on only his own and the blond's existence. While Katsuya had only a week's worth of sexual frustration to unload from his shoulders, Seto had incorporated his repression into that of everything else, and they had mingled like the fine, sticky strands of a spider's web: impossibly interwoven and all vital to the entire structure.

For him, everything he'd ever pushed down and stamped out inside of him was now a part of a sickly black flood, each instance inseparable from all the others, and none more or less valuable than another. Years and years of denial and avoidance had only barely staved off that river, churning in his soul, endlessly beating against the dam he'd created, begging freedom, ever waiting for the crack in the foundation. In the moment when he had succumbed to the temptation of Katsuya's flesh, that crack had finally formed, pure energy pouring out at an increasing speed, escalating until he could feel his need to be closer like a knife in his belly.

The car rolled to a halt at some point, and somehow they got out from inside of it and up the front walk, up the stairs, down the long halls and to the bedroom in a swirled mess of thoughts and glimpses of the path; they moved out of necessity, neither entirely aware of where they were going.

Both would remember only alternately harsh and soft touches, one or two pauses on the staircase for one to slam (or be slammed by) the other against a wall, pulling and tripping and stumbling down long hallways as they struggled to relocate, refusing to part long enough to even walk properly.

They reached his room and tumbled down together onto Seto's simple bed, moaning into each other's open mouths as their skins came alive, not even bothering to undress completely.

_This is a dream, _Katsuya thought again fuzzily as Seto's mouth did something unbelievable to him, his head covered partially by the pleated skirt, brown hair visible where it poked out in tufts. He was moving so slowly that Katsuya thought he might explode, but he kind of wanted it to go on for hours.

_I'll wake up in just a moment, jerk off, take a shower... _

Katsuya's train of thought blanched into nothingness for a few moments. Seto had somehow made his dreamy maneuver more... _circular..._ and Katsuya's eyelids fluttered like a doll's, a throaty keen rising from the center of him, past his lungs, out of his mouth.

_...clean the house, and laugh about how much I need therapy-_

_-oh MY **GOD**-_

He had cleverly… filled... him, somehow… with one of those elegant fingers, and the feeling of circles split into two that were very different and yet impossible to choose between, clearing Katsuya's mind in an instant, over and over, all coherent thoughts leveled and then leveled anew in the repetitive blast waves of the double-synchronized rhythmic beat.

His mind's eye was coated in pure white as Seto struck some shard of flint deep inside him, over and over, igniting him, sending sparks all through him. It was building a fire in his gut that was burning merrily, and so, he nearly burst into tears when Seto took his hand away and his mouth with it; he cried out for its loss, whispered pleading, breathy words that almost stuck to his tongue as they clawed their way out.

_Oh god, come back, don't leave me empty and too hot like this_-

He cried out again as the heat, more and different this time, returned and pressed down upon him. His middle rose to meet Seto, gasping as the fingers' former location was inhabited by Seto's _self, _and Katsuya tried his best not to be too loud, taking every other outlet he could think of to ease the desperate mix of delirium and the sharp pain of first entry: clawing at the plain white sheets, curling his fingers around Seto's slim, muscular thighs, leaving parallel lines in angry red tattoos across their backs until he was close enough for Katsuya to let go.

Seto wore a smile unlike any he'd seen before; it was frightening, but it was still hot and real, and... utterly Kaiba. He gazed up at him for a while, his eyes meeting and breaking the gaze there, opening and shutting in sync with the moment of impact. Seto was getting the smile again, but, just as it would almost be fully displayed on the handsome face, it would suddenly be gone, replaced by the cold, serious face of deep concentration. Katsuya reached out and took Seto's shoulders, pulling him down until they were cheek to cheek.

"How often... did you... think of... this?" he whispered into his ear, not pulling away when Seto made him cry out, speaking with a honey-coated voice that could have seduced a monk.

"You...'re... different..." Seto ground out, his normally low, gravelly voice even more fetching with the added hint of strain, Katsuya noticed. He wrapped his legs around Seto's slim hips and smiled at the ceiling.

"You too," he replied softly, lips softly brushing an earlobe. The regular breaks in his speech were perfectly matched to the tightening of their grips, the faint squeaking of the mattress, and the moans that Katsuya was delivering right to Seto's ear. He had recalled that _someone_ had certainly enjoyed it while in the chair when Katsuya'd played with his ears a little... and if tonight was any indicator, it wouldn't take much more than what he'd done already before Seto would be ready to let loose.

"It's alright... " Katsuya continued eventually, "you don't have... to answer... but I wonder... if it was... as much... as I did?..." Katsuya kissed him at the pressure point right behind the lobe,ensuring that Seto was hearing every note he was inspiring with his talents. "I thought... about you... so... much..." The vocal praises were louder now, growing as Seto's repetitious movement from above was becoming more wild and untamed with each passing word and reaction. The light touches, smooth tone and tickling warmth from Katsuya's cries were making him feel like he was burning up, molten heat spreading from the inside out; threatening to consume him, to leave only his ashes behind.

After several minutes of a much more exuberant pace and enthusiastic spirit, Katsuya brought him down once more, his last secret for the man he was connected to."But I have... to tell you...Seto...that I had..."

"I had... no idea... you'd be... so... so.. gooOOOD!!" Katsuya called out to his rival, finally pushing him off of the deep end. Seto threw his caution to the wind, and the two were off, so caught up in each other that they vowed never to stop.

As they continued, the initial discomfort he'd forgotten seeped back in, and Katsuya was caught, then, in the place where agony and ecstasy meet for tea, the results of inexperience and a lack of preparation for such a union warring with the immeasurable delight born of Seto's presence and the simple facts of male anatomy. The pain didn't exactly subside, but it began to take on its own place, and Katsuya never asked Seto to stop.

He clawed Seto's shoulders, digging into the living shell as if he were trying to rip out his _ka_ with bare hands, wanting him to simultaneously stop _now _and never, _ever_ stop.

It just felt so _good,_ so _right…_ like an empty bit in him had by chance found what was made to fit there, the way a man rescued from the desert must feel about that first sip of cool water.

_The look on your face,_ Seto thought in stilted waves, looking down at the blond as he pondered nearly the same thing. _It's like you're being taken to heaven and burned alive at once… and it's all around me, and you _do _feel like fire, just like in my dream…_

He nearly laughed, as he had long ago gone mad with it. The few days of agonizing obsession had created a monster inside of him that wanted to eat Katsuya whole, savor every scrap of him. Every time he saw his name on those punished lips, every time he felt those fingernails on his back, the feeling of starvation and longing was both heightened and sated in perfect unison, creating a cycle that could never be closed.

They went around and around in this dance, the repetition of their synchronized movements like a waltz they could twirl for hours. Neither wanted to let the impending conclusion come to pass, resisting with all the wits and willpower they managed to scrape up in the midst of unreality.

Seto eventually did reach the point when knew he wouldn't be able to keep up much longer. His body would simply give out, every speck of energy transferred out, driven into the gasping figure that was below and all around him, melted with him in this alternate universe where only heat and pleasure existed.

Oh yes, he was close now; the all-consuming lunacy was near its climax.

Katsuya shrieked with every round of Seto's sliding form from above, twin snakes of pleasure and pain wrapping around him and strangling him in a beautiful balance, his wrists held down above his head as if he'd been trying to escape. The front of him was engaged in delicious friction with Seto's stomach, giving him two points of weakness, and it was all he could do not to simply close his eyes and die.

Seto had almost gotten to expiration, using the very last of his strength to drive them both to and over the edge of reason.

Katsuya was screaming now, had been for a while, both in pain and pain's perfect opposite; he'd been screaming Seto's name, screaming for deities and screaming foul obscenities, unaware that he was doing such a thing. His vocal chords seemed far away, like a record playing on the floor below, barely audible. Only Seto could hear him, every syllable bringing him closer. Katsuya could hear Seto now, as well, who'd distilled all his previous urges to vocalize into further energy for his task. His breathing was labored and he was _growling_, and not just a low groan; it was deep, animalistic, guttural, and his beautiful face and perfect features hosted a feral look that matched almost too well.

Katsuya smiled; he had turned Seto Kaiba from an ice cube to an animal, and the thought filled him with a fresh wave that rode upon those that came of Seto's actions, arriving like both the intense pain and pleasure those actions caused. The three took too much room together. He couldn't hold so much sensation. He couldn't stop it, the heat was too much…

…and the pain and the pleasure became one solid, indistinguishable entity that ensconced him, a blinding flash of brilliant color that was all around him and himself as he released into the warm torso flush with his own body, calling Seto's name so loud it left his throat raw and raspy, declaring the name in a final battle cry.

That call and his seed, heavy and wet on his already-moist skin, sent Seto too into oblivion, his mouth opening in a silent screech as he stared down into Katsuya's eyes. Every particle of frustration he'd ever housed seemed to burst forth, his climax husking his soul clean in an ultimate ritual of emotional sanitation. It left him feeling desperately weary, both physically and mentally, such was the force of it. He collapsed on top of the other boy, panting harshly, and when warm arms came around him, hands smoothing his hair and lips murmuring nothing at all into his ear, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Katsuya stroked him, floating gently toward unconsciousness, random peaceful thoughts meandering in his mind. He felt like air for the time being, but he suspected he would definitely be in some pain later… which left him wondering, only briefly, what would happen when they awoke in the morning. He smiled. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be enough to take this night away from him.

This night he would have forever.

* * *

WHOO!

First lemon.


	8. The Next Morning

Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim. Yugioh is not among that which I have.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Next Morning**

Seto woke up slowly, pressing close to the unfamiliar yet comforting warmth underneath him. The faint glow of sunlight filtered through his eyelids, filling him with the orange-yellow peace of near-waking. It had been so long since he'd woken up after the sun; he couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been the pitch dark of very early morning. His senses came back to him gradually with this thought. Why was he still in bed?

He opened his eyes to find Katsuya directly below him, just where he'd been when he fell asleep…

The memories of the night before flooded him, every second squeezed into a tiny capsule of recollection, and Seto scrambled up and off of Katsuya, out of bed, wincing slightly at the taut pain in his muscles, overcome by panicked disorientation. He brutally slammed down his thoughts before they could form, moving away from the bed and turning his back on it without deciding to. He moved without contemplation, his singular thought a not-thought; it was quite important _not_ to think just now.

Katsuya gave a small gasp and his head lifted from the pillow, torn briefly from blissful rest at Seto's sudden movement and the loss of his warmth. He made a feeble attempt at cohesive thought, turning his head a few inches and testing the difficulty of ungluing his eyelids from one another, trying to find his bearings and then giving up almost immediately. He would much rather stay here awhile longer anyway, coasting on the borderline of consciousness, the delicious feather-lightness that enveloped him in this place interspersed with equally pleasant moments of near-awareness. He was receiving occasional sensory messages that were growing clearer and more frequent as the seconds ticked by, pulling him into the reality of day at a sloth's pace. He let it come, putting no effort into tipping the scales in either direction, just concentrating on nothing, loving the feel of the soft sheets underneath him and the sore, yet pleasant thrum inside him, just under his skin. It was dreamlike, and it was dispelling his dreams, this vibration that came through his shield of sleep at even the tiniest use of his stiff and stressed muscles like a rich bass line at high volume. He could tell even in this halfway state it would be unwise to make any sudden movements, but he rather liked the feeling that even a minuscule stretch sent rolling through him. He shifted ever so slightly in his personal dent in the mattress every few moments, riding the sensation in a daze.

Seto, however, would have described himself to be the most awake he'd ever been in his life at that point in time. He resisted the impending panic looming in his mind, tried to ignore it, every bit as determined and foolish in its wake as one who tries to hold off a hurricane with a child's plastic umbrella. He rearranged and refastened what he wore still, the cloth that had been simply pulled into odd shapes and locations, before bending down and collecting the pieces that had proved too bothersome to ignore and, thus, been removed and cast aside. He towed them into place and then frowned at their inadequate performance, dissatisfied, the level of safety they usually brought him missing in action. He didn't understand; he had his first priority, his physical, outer layer back, but the feeling of exposure did not wane. He tugged hard at their ends, pulling the garments not more than a quarter-inch farther down on his limbs and torso, dragging the fabric over himself until it was misshapen and unnatural-looking. His garments were staging some sort of revolt, feigning submission momentarily only to ride right back up when he moved on to the next edge. He kept at it, his scowl twisting into a mask of mild horror, helplessly repeating the same fruitless motions in a rather disturbingly compulsive manner.

Katsuya finally crossed that elusive, indiscernible line into full acceptance of the here and now, admitting his membership to the Land of the Living as he pushed his arms straight out from his sides and blinked rapidly for a few seconds. He pulled himself into a sitting position, missing his collared shirt as the cool air of the room met his extremely bare skin. He was allowed one last perfect, empty spot in time before his senses kicked in, one second more and then it was gone. Colors, sounds, textures were back upon him, and he felt their weight like a bucket of clumsily sloshed paint on the inside of his mind. They rapidly became tiny bits of information, combining to form bigger, more complicated chunks of data, translating and relaying their facts to him. It was all occurring too fast for him, all within an incalculably short span of time, forming the tapestry of Seto's bedroom at a cruel pace.

Knowing his location now, it was a place he was both surprised and not surprised to find himself in, his questions slyly answering themselves. When one wakes in strange bedroom, one wonders what he or she was up to the previous night. The next millionth of a moment found him suddenly fully informed of the full circumstances of being Jounochi Katsuya. He was now clued in to the scene, and a tad overwhelmed by the memories of his exploits these last 24 hours with his, ahem, partner in crime, the resident of this splendid home who currently stood a short ways away… A very short distance, and yet so very much farther away than he'd been in Katsuya's freshest memories, the ones clogging his mind in vivid detail. His eyes went extra-wide, felt his chest tighten in an inexplicable knot of assorted anxieties regarding everything all at once. He had answers to his primary, waking questions, and now had so many new ones, each born of a different fear or hope. Together, for they were impossible to sort, they had taken hold and begun the process of driving him crazy.

He stared at Seto's back in shock and despair and, least noticably to himself, a slow, guarded hope and hapiness; his jaw slackened as he stared, the tall, slender form the only one that didn't seem to swirl and run together in a surrealist landscape of the background. He was not really acknowledging Seto's actions so much as contemplating the vast, general concept of his existence, as well as he himself existing. His mind ran wild with worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario, each less feasible than the last.

_He's gonna kill me and dump my body in the river. No, too sloppy._

_Torture, then. He's going to make me pay for seeing his feelings, for the things I said._

_He's gonna experiment on me with some crazy chemical he needs for his contraptions-_

…et cetera, et cetera. He did this for a time that seemed longer that it was, his fleeting fears building into the plot of an awful movie, only managing to get a minor grip on himself when he realized how ridiculously panicked he was becoming. He'd already created most of a delusion before he really understood what he was trying to convince himself of. Gathering his wits, he determined that this was, indeed, _real_ reality. He giggled in his mind at his own short-lived madness.

_Yeah, it's real reality here, Katsuya, not a virtual reality completely set up and designed by Kaiba himself, ya idiot; and further, Kaiba has not _actually _illegally hooked you up to a freaky machine like in a cheesy sci-fi flick, and he hasn't been broadcasting the whole last week and a half's "simulation" on live television._

That would be a brilliant and astonishingly complex plot to humiliate him for no good reason. Actually, a rather Kaiba-like thing to do.

_Okay, breathe. Just breathe. No reason to get overexcited, here._

_I'm just here, in Seto's room. See? He's right there. Hey, Seto. _

_You sure do look solid, there._

_Yep. Solid. He's there, all right. And I'm here. Right here in Seto's room. _

_With Seto. _

_That's good. It's um, always good to know where ya are. And I'm right here, in Seto's room. In his uh, his bed. To be more… you know._

_Specific._

_It makes sense that I'm in this bed. I mean, I fell asleep in this bed. It's the one I slept in last night. After. Uh. We uh, after we left the club. And. Um. _

_Um. _

_Yeah._

_Had sex. _

_Right. _

_Lotsa sex._

_Sure did._

_That really happened, then._

_Right._

_Okay then._

_That's, uh._

_Right._

_Breathe._

Considering, how badly he'd been reacting before, he thought he was doing rather well. The fear and anticipation and excitement and uncertainty were sure to start oozing impressively from his ears soon; but, generally, rather well. He reconstructed calm within himself, and a few seconds later, opened his mouth to say something to Seto, since, after all, he likely had no idea Katsuya was even awake. Something like, "Good morning," or even just, "Hi."

Until, naturally, he was again wrecked by a new panic, one even worse than the one before. It came to him with sickening clarity, this new realization. He had suddenly remembered what his morning visage was, what the day's first glance in the mirror had told him every day of his life since he'd been old enough to A: care about his looks, and B: see over the edge of the bathroom sink. It hit him hard and fast, and all lingering traces of sleepiness that had survived the first terrors were instantly vanquished. In short, this situation was this: Seto Kaiba, who was both the object of his near every thought (lit in either hatred or squishy fondness since the day they'd met), and now, brand-new lover, was only feet away from him right now: right now, their first morning together. Furthermore, because it was their first morning, and, that barring some _miracle_, some truly impressive, cosmic intervention that would FOREVER distinguish this day from every other day he ever had, or would again, live… That possibility aside, he knew himself to currently look like a disheveled and half-dressed, creased and puffy faced, baggy and crusty-lidded _TRAIN WRECK_.

_Oh crap I can't let him see he'll PUKE! SHIT!_

He frantically seized the opportunity Seto's back provided him and hastily began an incognito mission to make himself presentable. He smoothed his skirt out as best he could and rubbed the last of the sleep from his face, ensuring the wee, gooey gifts from the sandman were gone from the corners of his eyes. He wiped them discreetly on the comforter and nervously felt for locks of his hair that were more out-of-place than usual; he was well aware that it was unruly at its best, and fairly startling to the unsuspecting when aided by long visits with pillows or hats. He moved quietly, biting his tongue as he pulled the painfully knotted strands apart with his fingers so as not to attract Seto's gaze; he knew it was probably a hopeless venture, but he desired little more in life at this crucial juncture than to be somewhat less nappy-time tousled when Seto turned around and looked at his newly appointed bed mate.

His rebellious mop seemed to grow larger with each flattening technique he employed. He silently cursed his morning repugnance, knowing his efforts had made, at best, minimal progress toward his preferred fresh-and-fully-awake look. He sighed in defeat. It would just have to do.

Well, the time had come. Ugly and petrified as he may be, he really ought to say something now.

He cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, mornin'."

Seto went rigid at the sound of Katsuya's voice for just a moment, before returning to his task of forcing his clothes to do more than was possible; after all, no amount of clothing can make one disappear completely.

Seemingly ignored, Katsuya was left unsure of what to do or say. His mind was going back to the anxiety, threatening to shut down or short out, whirring madly as he tried to sort out both the events of the previous night and the current actions of the ever-stiffening man whose bed he had woken in only moments before. Seto continued to dress himself, Katsuya only then finally seeing what he'd been doing during the last minute or two. He was tugging on his outfit, almost hard enough to tear it. He looked crazy.

Katsuya's fear swelled, now caused entirely by Seto. What the hell was he doing? Had he snapped? Maybe he was going to kill him after all. He looked at the door, considering whether or not he could feasibly escape, the silence growing thick around them until Seto finally stopped and let his stance soften. Katsuya was relieved, even felt silly for his momentary case of the nerves.

"You okay?"

Seto was quiet so long that Katsuya was almost sure he wasn't going to answer, but finally he spoke.

"I think you should go now." His voice sounded strained, but with pain, anger, or both, Katsuya couldn't tell.

"Seto-"

"GET OUT!" he screamed harshly, spinning around to face him at last. Katsuya jumped at the sound, staring at him, scared by the extremity of his words, the hard posture, the fury in the lines of his face. He didn't move, was too stunned to respond. Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it.

Something whizzed by an inch from his face and shattered against the wall behind him, broken shards of whatever had materialized in Seto's hand raining down onto his head and shoulders. He didn't need to be told again.

He never knew how he'd found his way out of the house and onto the street, but as he lifted the pay phone from its cradle to call a taxi, he felt the wetness sliding silently down his cheeks, almost surprising him. They came furiously, and without so much as a sob or prickling sensation to alert him, as if some mystical rain cloud had apparated above him and was emptying itself onto his face. He listened unfeelingly to the dial tone, the handset slipping to hang from its cord as the tears overtook his vision, his mind. He slumped down against the wall of the booth and let them come.


	9. SometimesIt'sHealthyToAvoidTheIssue

Disclaimer: I hold no rights to Yugioh.

**Chapter 9: Sometimes It's Healthy to Avoid the Issue**

By the time Katsuya let himself in the evening a day and a half later, his father's light snores were filtering through the living room from the open bedroom door.

* * *

There was really no telling how long he'd been in the phone booth; he hadn't seen a clock before fleeing the mansion. It couldn't have been too long, considering that it was only noon when Mai had pulled up and he rarely woke before ten, but it had seemed to take hours just to stop crying long enough to dial the number. Finally having somewhat collected himself, he mentally went down the list of possible rescuers, eliminating them as fast as he could think their names. His father would certainly help him, of course, but he still didn't know about the P's P. As far as he knew Katsuya had a job waiting tables in a nightclub; only half a lie, but nonetheless, if Mr. Jounochi found out the true nature of his son's profession, there was no way he'd let Katsuya continue to work there just to give his own father another chance at life; let alone the Kaiba situation inevitably coming up. It would be too humiliating. He never even considered calling his mother or sister. His mother was kind of a bitch, and he didn't care to give her any information about his personal life; Shizuka was just a kid, and she didn't need to know any of this either.

_No family, then._

His friends were great, surely, but... He wasn't ready for them to know anything about what had transpired. Not yet, anyhow, when he barely knew himself. Yuugi would have given him a wide-eyed look of horror, sweet naivety shattered under the knowledge, and still trying to console him in the childlike way he did most everything. Or, worse still, the black spirit would likely love another chance to loose some Shadow Magick, which Katsuya thought to be tempting, but unnecessary. His soul churned at the thought, at once guilty for it.

He thought Honda would be a good choice, but even as he lifted his hand to do it, he saw with clarity the repercussions: Honda would go straight to Kaiba's. And likely get himself hurt very badly. He stopped dialing as the scene played out: loyal, temperamental Honda, gunning for the mansion with all the ferocity of a warrior whose homestead had been pillaged... Well. That was not a good idea. Keeping the details to himself was out of the question, since he'd have been collected half-naked and close to hysterical by his pointy-haired companion. He would never take "I'll tell you later" for an answer. Not Honda, then, either.

Anzu's mouth was too large for discretion, and however she may have good intentions, her concern would only further complicate everything.

Ryou, he felt he barely knew, and not well enough to burden him now, with this.

His resources becoming exhausted, nearly panicked and convinced he was all on his own and totally, utterly screwed, an answer broke over him like the dawn. A blond flash of attitude and loveliness, the latter tempered by the former: who, if anyone, could he trust, who had no real ties of her own to the rest of his life, and the experience and common sense to help him in this ridiculous situation?

Mai.

He'd no sooner thought it than felt fresh tears come to his eyes, but these were the blessed tears of relief. He had dialed her number from memory, whispering a quick prayer of thanks that he could do such a thing. She picked up on the third ring.

"Yeah."

It was a statement more than a greeting; Katsuya smiled weakly to hear it. Only Mai could make a single word sound like a command to work for her attention.

"Mai? It's me. Uhhm. Uhhm..." Katsuya fumbled for the next sentence, not at all sure how he could begin to tell her what was going on.

He never even had the chance; Mai's tone had changed at the underlying trauma in his voice. "Where are you, Katsuya?"

When she arrived, she'd already bought the clothes. He hadn't told her he was wearing nothing but the skirt, only that he was indisposed to leaving the structure. She'd smirked when he asked her how she knew to get them, merely saying, "Just a hunch, babe. Why else would you be trapped in a phone booth? A sniper wouldn't let you call me." He'd thanked her in rambling spurts and oaths to pay her back, but she'd just tossed him the wardrobe and guarded the booth while he changed, barking, "Take a hike, bozo!" at anyone foolhardy enough to let their gaze linger. Silent, she'd escorted him to her car and driven to a nearby cafe, asking no questions, only sparing a thoughtful glance or two at stoplights. He couldn't have asked for anything else, still not trusting his voice's ability to conjure the tale. She bade him sit down when they arrived, and ordered him a thick roast beef sandwich on a croissant, a blueberry muffin, seasoned potatoes, a small garden salad, and a steamy cup of broccoli cheese soup, as well as black coffee and biscotti for them both. He ate all of it, relishing every bite, caught unawares by the torrid eruption of his hunger when the laden plates came his way. He loved eating, wrought with turmoil or no.

_It was just the right thing to do_, he thought when he'd finished. He felt still heartbroken and weary to the bone; inarguably, though, the act of taking sustenance, of willfully preserving his life, was an active opposition to despair. It helped. He was touched again by Mai's kindness and intuition, noticing again how silent he'd been throughout. She must have been curious, and yet she had not pressed him to say anything at all, only tending to his immediate needs and waiting for him to get to it. He drew a deep breath, watching her eyebrows rise slightly as she noticed him about to speak.

He told her everything, starting at the beginning: his father's attempt to recover, the job, the luxuries it had provided, a brief description of the dancing, including the presently relevant Mystery Dance. She nodded at all the right intervals, interjecting here and there to ask questions. Her face betrayed nothing of her thoughts as he told her about the first time he'd danced for Kaiba, then unknowing of his identity, of the game of hide-and-seek at school and the confrontation. Then, after a near week of absence, how he'd lingered in the shadows of the club, the final night when he'd revealed himself. That had been last night.

He paused, then, drinking deep from his rich beverage and shuddering at the challenge of continuing. _Oh, god, and to think this is way easier than tellin' anybody else is gonna be. _Still, he hesitated, very tempted to end the story. He didn't, of course. He resumed after clearing his throat, if only for the fact that Mai was no idiot, and had, most likely, figured it out already. From what she'd heard thus far and his state when she'd acquired him, he was fairly certain it was enough. Gaining his bearings, he ground out an abbreviated version, enough to say that it was consensual and mutually instigated. If she was disappointed that the recount was not so detailed as it could have been, she did not show it.

At the last event, though, anger sharpened her features, alighting with emotion for the first time since he'd begun this tale, which, all in all, had taken three-quarters of an hour in the telling. "He threw it at your head?"

"Well, I dunno... Depends on how good his aim is, I guess." He slumped down in his chair, head in his hands, studying the tiny spatters of food his meal had left on the polished wooden tabletop. Mai regarded him solemnly.

"What a prick." She sighed slightly. "You know, Jounochi... I'm not gonna bother offering to rough him up, since you coulda called someone else if that was all it would take for you to feel better." She smiled that grin of hers, the one that seemed rueful and sultry and carnivorous all at once, and Katsuya was once more glad of her company. That grin was what had memorized so many, had condemned men and women alike to a fascination more intense than even the best of physical proportioning could ever induce, although she had that as well. To Katsuya, seeing it the first time on the trip to Dualist's Kingdom had been like recognizing a long-lost sister. She had laughingly responded that she had felt the same, not bothering to alter the sentiment to 'long-lost brother'. "Though it sounds like a fine idea, right now." She gazed at Katsuya with fondness. "What do you want to do now? Is that what you'd like me to help you figure out?"

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. _Good ol' Mai. Bitch knows me too well,_ but the thought held no malice.

"Do you know?" He shook his head, feeling the lump grow larger and swallowing against it. "Babe, I think you've had a rough couple of days." She smiled at the joke of her own understatement. "Are you going to try to talk to him?" Katsuya shrugged, suddenly completely miserable again, the light of fond memories overtaken by the grief Kaiba had left him with. He cast his eyes down and slumped even further. She looked at him for a few moments and then punched him gently in the arm.

"Maybe you should jump off this bridge tomorrow, hmm? We'll have some mindless fun for a while and you can crash with me, we'll shop and stuff, you can get a full night's sleep and then maybe, after you've had some time in which you aren't totally blown away by all this shit, you can sort it out." She sounded adamant, a decision voiced in a single breath after a long time of restrained concern. Letting the corners of her mouth turn up at his reaction, or lack thereof, the next part she said more slowly. "I know you, and I know you want to confront things and fix everything right now," she said gently, putting up a hand to halt his protests at being accused of such a naive mindset, "but I want you to take care of yourself."

"But if I don't try to talk to him, he'll think I don't even care."

Her eyes narrowed a bit, and the ghost of her smile withered. After hearing all, she truly had a bit less compassion for Kaiba's side of things than her friend. Even so, she groped for words that would not make it sound like she was telling him what to do. "Kaiba's not going to leave the country, and when it's been more than a few hours, you know, you can try to talk to him. If you even want to." She frowned then, a formidable sight. _Glad that's not me she's frownin' at._ "I honestly don't think I would be at all opposed to kicking his teeth down his throat if the next knick-knack connects. It's your decision, though, babe. I'll do what I can for you, if you've got anything you need, either way."

She did. Upon arriving, she promptly called Katsuya's father, telling him that he was ill, not too ill, just a flu or something, and that he should go ahead and call the school and tell them he'd be back in a few days. Knowing his son's attendance had become important to him, he took it in good faith after speaking with the teen himself for a few moments.

He asked leave to use the shower, unable to go any longer. He felt dirty. Reaching the bathroom he shut the door and flipped the light switch. His head felt ten pounds heavier, and the bulk of it seemed to be sitting in his overstressed eyeballs. He braced himself and faced the mirror.

He found his eyes to in fact be much less tragic-looking than he'd anticipated, no worse than when he'd worked a long shift or tried to function on only nine hours' sleep. The newly-bought outfit of a light sweater and Levi's hung nicely from his smallish frame, the collared shirt underneath thankfully hiding the plum-colored marks dotting his neck and collarbone. They had made a quick stop at the club to get his haversack, which had been left behind the night before... His skirt was stowed inside, out of sight until Katsuya could decide whether or not to just burn the damn thing. He doubted he'd ever work in it again.

_Hell, I don't know that I'm ever doing another shift in anything, period._

A heavy sigh later, he reached into the shower stall and turned the taps on full blast, the water hot enough to trick even the most reluctant muscles into relaxing. He slipped easily from his suit of clothing and stood still, watching his reflection slowly dissolve as the thick steam coated its surface. Bathing himself slowly, he let his mind wander with the vapor and the sweet, cloying aromas of Mai's exquisite soaps and gels. He took near two hours to himself before emerging.

This done, Mai ushered him none too gently into her bedroom and shut him inside, demanding he sleep. Lying in the down of Mai's comforter, his stomach pleasantly filled and the dampness of his hair cooling his scalp, the buzz of his mind subsided. Sleep he did, then, and it was sweetly dreamless and heavy.

* * *

He rose in the late morning the next day, shocked to find it so. It had been five o' clock when he'd finished showering. He'd slept nineteen hours.

"Mornin', sunshine!" Mai stood next to the small dining table, glittering with an extra large combination pizza and a two-liter soda. Stumbling from the bedroom and catching the sight, he could have wept for the beauty of it. She smiled. "Breakfast. Or whatever." She had been awake awhile.

His appetite had returned, and he ate the entire thing after Mai's assurances that she's already eaten. "Crap, I like, passed the fuck out, huh?" he asked between mouthfuls. She nodded at him and chuckled. "Sorry. Thanks for giving me the bed, you know, I would have taken the couch..."

"No worries. Feel any better?"

Katsuya managed a stoic smile. "A bit, yeah. Thanks." Mai busied herself with folding the blankets she'd used, and Katsuya finished the pizza and chugged soda from the huge bottle.

The two had the day Mai had promised, showering each other with tiny gifts in fashionable stores, eating heaps (mainly Katsuya ate heaps; Mai ate normally) of delicate foods in dimly lit bistros, talking with the certain catty ease and understanding known only fag-to-hag. It had helped. It took his mind off of things, at least a little bit, and the day had passed.

When he asked what she'd done all evening while he slept, she winked at him coyly. "You don't want to know."

Kissing his cheek in farewell, she had dropped him off at his apartment, where he was now. "Call me." Her tone was order rather than request.

"I will."

Sneaking past his slumbering father into his room, he wondered if he should go to school the next day. It would be Wednesday. He readied for bed, and ultimately decided to decide in the morning. As he slipped under the covers and settled in, sleepiness closing in with alacrity, his mind turned to Mai, and how she hadn't told him where she'd gone. He shrugged mentally, and thought no more that night.

* * *

As it happened, he most certainly did want to know, although it was best she hadn't told him.


	10. SoulSearching for Dummies

Disclaimer: I am as the fish, and Yugioh is as the bicycle. (Fish don't own bicycles.)

* * *

**Chapter 10: Soul-Searching for Dummies**

Wednesday morning's meeting with Delicorp had been like a half-remembered dream for Seto. There had been some discussion about opening a new factory and distribution center there in Domino, as well as ideas for finding suitable employees for said facility, but all the details escaped him. He'd been having more trouble focusing than was permissible just lately. He remembered that Werenko guy had seemed to be staring at him, but it could have been his imagination... With no small amount of discomfort, he remembered the haze his life had been when he was younger, when Gozaburo had kept him so sleep-deprived that reality seemed a totally foreign concept.

He'd made it to school for his afternoon classes, trying not to notice that Katsuya was nowhere in sight and that damned Yuugi-tachi kept giving him sidelong glances and whispering to each other. Had Katsuya told them what had happened?

_Not likely, considering his thug friend hasn't attempted any sort of assault yet, nor has Yuugi demanded answers with tear-filled eyes..._

It was just as well. Even if he knew, deep down, that any beating Honda might try to give him would be the least he deserved and any questions Yuugi might have asked would have been perfectly valid, he hadn't the slightest clue what he could say or do in response. It was really no wonder he couldn't focus on his meetings; his mind was on a stand-by of sorts, constantly making futile attempts at processing the overwhelming amount of new information Sunday night (and Monday morning) had bestowed upon him. Digging through the stacked-up emotions he felt toward Katsuya made running his company and going to school seem quite a bit less difficult in comparison.

Finally, he heard the last bell. Sweeping past the students huddled about the school's entrance, he headed toward his limousine, glad to be going home.

It wasn't exactly that he felt no remorse; it was just that, simply put, he knew it was far from the worst thing he'd ever done. Seto already had plenty to feel like an asshole about, and brooding over the morning-after incident would be ridiculous. It had been an insensitive reaction, surely, and perhaps he'd gone overboard in throwing the paperweight, but it wasn't Death T, or a missile he'd designed, or a lackey whose life he'd cut short, either. It was more important to think about the reasons behind it.

He'd just wanted some time alone, to think! Was that so wrong?

_Hmph. Some time alone, eh? That's rich, old boy. You still can't admit how scared you are, can you? How sad. How exquisitely pathetic._

Seto scowled at the voice in his mind. _And who are you to judge, hmm? Jimminy fucking Cricket? You're just as much a part of me as anything else, so keep it to a minimum. No one is confused about what's going on here; I know that I'm terrified, I know I'm a jerk, I can't begin to think of what I'm going to say if Jounochi ever actually gives me a chance to explain, and if he does, I may just die of shock anyway. It may be of some benefit to try and calmly sort this all out, so let's all just have some goddamn SILENCE IN HERE FOR A MOMENT, ALRIGHT! _

His wish was granted, if only temporarily, and he climbed out of the limo, walking straight to his office, where he felt he did all his best thinking. He hung his coat neatly on the coat rack near the door, unpacked his laptop, and settled into the familiarity of his padded office chair.

_Ahhh._

He opened his laptop and created a new document, determined to examine his situation in a precise and methodical manner. He titled it "Jounochi Katsuya," and divided it into two columns: Pros and Cons. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to fill in the cons first, and set the document to create bullet points for each.

Cons:

- Rash, impulsive; leads to poor decision-making skills

- Poor dueling/negotiating skills; commands little respect

- Reputation of past dealings with unsavory characters

- Currently deals with irritating, if not criminally inclined, characters

- Employment status undignified

He paused for a moment as another swirl of confusing emotions stirred within him. _No, those will be dealt with after this process, when I can more accurately connect them to the traits listed._ He resumed his list making.

- Disheveled appearance

_Is that really a con?_ He smirked to himself before deleting the point. If he couldn't admit anything else, he certainly knew he found Katsuya aesthetically pleasing. Unable to think of any more, he moved on to the next column.

Pros:

- Likes Mokuba

- Physically attractive

- Endowed with some level of common sense: "street smart"

- Employed

- Has improved tremendously in scholastic attendance/study habits

He sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. He felt he wasn't covering everything, but was unsure how to divide his remaining points into positive and negative features. He moved on to a second page in the document and, removing the columns from it, gave the header:

General Facts:

- Home situation was reputed to be horrific in the past, seems not to be the case any longer (evidenced by improvement in school, demeanor, apparel: job-related?)

- Most recent background check shows father is currently working after long period of unemployment (sickness/injury? No hospital records... substance abuse that has since been dealt with? May also factor into improved home life)

- Finds me attractive

- Makes me angry, confused, ...

He hesitated, then added a final word:

... afraid.

He felt certain that this last point should be included here, and not in the cons, though he could not have readily explained why; it was mainly the fact that emotions, other than a sense of duty and devotion to his brother, had been all but forgotten until Katsuya had come along and reminded him of what they felt like. Though frustrating, he subconsciously found it somewhat of a relief that such things were still possible, especially after all he'd been subjected and subjected himself to in the years before he'd inherited his company. Consciously, though, he simply couldn't be sure if it was a good or bad thing.

Which brought him to the main task at hand: sorting himself out, hopefully once and for all, on this entire matter.

Conclusions:

- We find each other attractive, obviously (considering sexual encounter)

- Although the qualities I would normally consider "respectable" are not immediately apparent, I do have respect for him for other reasons (i.e. perseverance, loyalty, honesty, conviction... even in situations when these qualities are not necessarily to his own benefit)

- Not only likes Mokuba, but showed genuine concern and played active role in his rescue from Duelist's Kingdom, even without premise of personal gain

- Has job, albeit a degrading one... Which may also be only reason for sexual encounter and resulting emotional conflict. No doubt the work is at times infinitely unpleasant, yet has clearly had said job for some time... Why? Well-paying? Not in and of itself a reason conducive to his personality

- I feel acute discomfort relating to aforementioned job... again, why? Instinctual territorialism, perhaps?

- He has the capacity to make me angrier than any other living person on this planet.

He sat back and reviewed. These points were all well and good, but where did they lead? It seemed he'd found more questions than answers. He pondered his last conclusion carefully, feeling that it was somehow incomplete. Why could Katsuya make him so angry, anyway? It couldn't just be his idiocy. Seto had kept his temper with far stupider individuals in far more important situations, and with little effort at that. So, why? How did that anger relate to the confusion and fear?

- He inspires a broader range of emotion in me than any other in my recollection.

_A more complete statement, but still not an answer._

He was getting frustrated with this impasse. He slammed his laptop shut and began pacing the room, considering what he'd learned. He knew he found Katsuya attractive, and he knew Katsuya made him emotional... _Meaning what? What does that mean? Does it even mean anything? _

He thought it must. Perhaps he didn't know what it meant, but it surely meant something. This emotional range wasn't even a recent development; Katsuya had always been able to make him angry, and confused since not long after meeting him, when he'd done the first background check. His switch from "common street punk" to "genuine nice guy" had been so sudden. Seto had met a lot of jerks in his life, but he couldn't recall ever encountering another_ reformed _jerk.

_So he's not a jerk anymore, so what?_ Feeling he'd exhausted this train of thought, he turned his focus to the preceding Monday. He knew he'd initiated the sex; after all, he'd been the one stalking him at the club for three nights. He'd done all the carrying off the stage to his own limousine, he'd instructed the driver to bring them to the mansion. It had all been his idea... which didn't add up to how he'd behaved afterwards.

_Why did I lose my temper that morning? He hadn't done anything wrong, per se, nor had he even really had the chance to irk me unintentionally, so, why? All he said was "good morning" if I remember correctly. Why would that make me want him to leave, let alone scare him off with projectiles? _

He halted in front of the door, ran a hand through his hair. _It wasn't him, then. Couldn't have been. He only followed my lead._

_Therefore, if he wasn't the cause, it must have been entirely self-inspired. I was the reason for my reaction. _

Well, that was progress. Unfortunately, it left a more frightening question to be answered:

_So, then, what the hell is MY problem? _

_Alright, let's backtrack; why does he scare me? I've never found him intimidating. Quite the opposite, actually. What is it? It is part of his character, or part of my own perception? _

When that question led him further into the forest of nowhere, he retreated even further: _What do I know about fear? _

_Fear is an emotion, and besides fear for Mokuba's safety, I've only ever been afraid of... emotions. _

_Like fear._

_Is that it? Because he makes me feel?_ "Hmm..." he said aloud. Perhaps he'd stumbled upon another nugget of truth. However, it was as far as he would get in his soul searching for the night.

"NIISAMA!" his coat collar yelled from the stand next to him (or, rather, his brother yelled into the intercom which was connected to the speaker in his coat collar).

He pressed his thumb into the small button underneath the speaker. "Yes, Mokuba?"

"Uh, sorry to bother you while you're in your office, but... um..."

"Yes?"

"Well, you've, um, got a visitor, Niisama."

"Who is it?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I've never seen him before."

"... I'll be right down."

* * *

Two nights earlier, while Katsuya slept in her bed, Mai was walking up to meet Mr. Jounochi at his south-side apartment. She'd called him as soon as she was sure Katsuya was really out and told him she had some important matters to discuss with him.

He answered moments after her knock, inviting her in with a look of mild concern. He'd made some tea, and she accepted it gratefully.

"So, Mai, what brings you here? Where's Katsuya?"

"He's okay, he's asleep. He needs it right now." She sighed, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Mr. Jounochi, there isn't any easy was to tell you any of this, so please let me get a few things clear first. I've come to you for a number of reasons, one of which being just that you're his father and I know you're concerned, just as I am, about his well-being."

_When you're sober,_ she thought with an inward grimace. As her anger began to swell from the thought, she felt some part of herself object.

_Oh, maybe that's not fair... he's been clean for six months now. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?_ _He's not the same guy who was a shit parent to Katsuya. This guy's worlds away from that one. This is the right thing to do. _

The silence stretched on until she remembered herself, smiling politely in response to his inquisitive gaze and continuing. "However, there are things he's kept from you, for good reasons, and I need that concern to be your main focus. If you think you may not be able to take the information I'm about to give you in a mature manner, please tell me right now."

"Oh, I already know he's gay."

Mai paused for a moment. "Well, that's one less thing, then. That's... relevant, I suppose, but... not really the point of the matter at hand."

"Oh?"

"No." She looked at him squarely. "Here's the thing... I need you to give me your word, Mr. Jounochi, that what I tell you here this evening, you will not confront Katsuya about. I need your solemnest vow on this. You absolutely must wait until he comes to you, and you must trust me when I say that, when he's ready, he will."

"Well, Mai, this all sounds very serious..." He sipped his tea with raised eyebrows. "May I ask, though, why you would tell me these things if you feel he'll tell me himself in the future?"

She smiled. "I'm scheming," she said simply, "and I'll need your help to do it... and for you to help me, you'll need this information."

"Interesting." He leaned back into the couch. "Well, you have my undivided attention." Mai looked at him expectantly. "Oh, yes, of course. I give you my word that I will not repeat anything I hear from you to Katsuya, nor otherwise give away the fact that I know anything. Good enough?"

"Mmm," she replied with a curt nod. "Mr. Jounochi, what, exactly, has your son told you about his job?"

"Please, call me Takeshi," he said absently, stroking his chin. "I know he said he works in a nightclub, but I can't say I know which one. He waits tables."

"Right. Well, Takeshi," she smiled quickly as she used his first name, "that's partly true. He does work in a nightclub, but... he doesn't wait tables. He works at the Puppy's Paradise," she said with a meaningful look.

"Oh, yeah, okay, I've heard of that place, it's that queer strip clu... Oh." He swallowed visibly before continuing. "I see. Well." He chuckled weakly. "I was wondering why he was getting paid so well." Mai kept quiet for a while, letting him mull it over. Finally, he spoke again. "My son... must love me very much."

"I'm relieved that you see it that way. Unfortunately, that's just it. He took the job to get you out of debt, and the both of you out of that filthy rat's nest you were living in before. I mean no offense, but you haven't ever been much of a breadwinner up till now..."

"...and crate-picking still isn't enough to take all the expenses on myself," he finished for her.

"Yep. So, you see, then, why you can't say anything."

Jounochi Takeshi sighed heavily, looking somehow older than he had mere minutes earlier. "A rock and a hard place, it would seem. He can't quit, but he can't do it if I know about it, either. He doesn't even know that I know he's gay."

"How do you know, if you don't mind me asking?"

He smiled. "He left a magazine under the couch once, about three months ago... I was vacuuming. Didn't hurt that it don't make much sense for a good-looking boy like that not to bring any girls around. Or talk about any, really, 'cept for you, Mai, but... it never sounded like a romantic thing. I'd had my suspicions for a while, you could say. The porno just confirmed it."

Mai nodded. "Fair enough." She finished her tea and looked at him sympathetically. "There's more."

"I thought there might be."

"Katsuya has recently become... involved... with a young man, and well, it's made things a little more complicated."

"More complicated? How's that possible?"

"Does the name Seto Kaiba mean anything to you?"

To Mai's extreme surprise, Mr. Jounochi burst out in hearty laughter. "Oh yes. I've heard that name once or twice: in the papers, and around here," he said when he'd contained himself, wiping a tear. "But never in a tone that would suggest my boy _liked _him at all." He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. "Not a bad catch, I suppose. What's the problem with that?"

"Kaiba is the problem with that," Mai replied with a frown. "We know Katsuya. He's pretty honest with himself. Kaiba... not so much. They had an... encounter... last night, and, well, this morning didn't go well."

He nodded in understanding. "I can see him wanting the day off from school."

"Yeah. I'm taking him shopping tomorrow, and I'd say let him stay home Wednesday, too."

"Sounds reasonable." He thought for a moment. "Do I need to beat this guy up or anything?"

It was Mai's turn to laugh, then. "Nah, I called first dibs already, if it comes to that, but I don't think it will."

"What makes you say that?"

"Think about it. They've been obsessed with each other for ages, way before their hormones got involved. I think there's a chance for 'em, if they don't screw it up. And by them, I mean Kaiba. Not only that, but I think there might just be a way to solve more than one problem at once, here." She grinned her devilish grin. "Since we tricky bastards are gonna get involved."

"You make a good point." He returned her grin with a lopsided one of his own. "Alright, Mai, so, what's the scheme?"

"Ah, yes, the fun part. Well, you see..."

* * *

Have you ever seen a major alcoholic who manages to get off the sauce? Literally, different freakin' person. Anyway, till next time, and remember, I love you all.

Biblically.

Just kidding.


	11. Call Me Akira

**Disclaimer:** No Yugiohs were owned in the making of this fic.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Call Me Akira**

Werenko was standing in his foyer. He looked somewhere between poised and terrified, and Mokuba's expression was a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Seto didn't pause noticeably on the stairs, but the sight of the young Delicorp suit waiting for him in his own house, or anywhere outside of a board room, was somewhat unexpected. He didn't know who else he might have been expecting, but Werenko had high rank amongst those he hadn't. He sighed inwardly. He just couldn't get away from the job.

He managed to keep his frustration internal, for the moment anyway, and gave the young man the closest thing to a smile that he ever did.

"Mokuba, I think you should get to your homework now."

"Niisama-"

"Now, Mokuba."

His tone left no room for interpretation, and his brother left after only the tiniest snort of indignation. He thought he might have heard a muttered, "...gonna tell me later anyway..." as he turned the corner, but he decided to overlook it temporarily. Once the wee one was gone, though, Seto was left with Werenko, and an awful silence stretched on. Seto's almost-smile withered.

_Oh good. Just what I need. He isn't even getting to the point._

"Good evening," he addressed Werenko, just how nice an evening he thought it was creeping into his voice. Werenko lost a poise point to the terror side, and immediately began to speak far too quickly to compensate.

"Oh, Mr. Kaiba, I'm so sorry, I know you're at home, and it's rather late, I'm sorry I didn't call, I um, wasn't really planning on coming here..." He was running out of things to say, and turning redder every moment he spent under Seto's scrutiny. A few long moments of silent discomfort, and then the young man started up once more. "I know you're a very busy man, and this is very inconvenient of me, but I was wondering... if... I might have a moment of your time." It came out _Imnthavummomenuvyourtime _and might have been directed at Seto's knees or his shoes. His breathing reminded Seto of the first stage of hyperventilation.

After waiting for him to finish, he raised his eyebrows at the baffling stream of word-vomit but said nothing in direct response. He only said, "The sitting room is this way," and turned toward it to suggest the other man should follow. The headache! It was more frequent all the time, and tougher on the temples. At least he could sit down in the other room.

Werenko looking quickly around the room, seeming to calm down now that being thrown out by force seemed unlikely. He hadn't been sure what to anticipate, really, knowing anything of the reputation that preceded _the _Seto Kaiba. He tried to sneak a quick glance. As he'd feared, he was caught. Those blue eyes missed nothing, ever.

Seto settled into an armchair and Werenko followed suit into the sofa across the table. He waited, gazing nonplussed at his visitor, lacing his fingers together and crossing his legs. Werenko shifted and looked at the carpet, the table, the chandelier... anywhere but at Seto. Finally deciding on a point just in front of him on the rug, he colored even further, somehow, and spoke just above a mumble. "You must be wondering what I'm doing here."

_Don't roll your eyes. It's very rude._ "Well, I am surprised to see you here, and not at work. I don't often entertain. If there is something we should discuss that cannot wait until Friday's meeting, though, I do wonder why you haven't gotten to it yet," he said unapologetically.

Werenko's eyes grew wide, felt his lungs constrict. "I've made you angry, I can go-"

"Well, I didn't say that." He sighed very deeply. "Please understand, I meant no offense. Let me rephrase: What can I do for you, Mr. Werenko?"

Lowering his head another few degrees, he mumbled, "Akira."

"Pardon?"

"Akira, it's my first name. You can call me Akira. If you want."

_What? _"All right... Akira." He felt unnatural, using an employee's first name, but then again, this whole scene was insane as far as he could tell. He still hadn't heard a reason for this visit. "What can I do for you?" he repeated.

Long throat clearing, and then, "Um, I'm not sure how to say this, really." The grandfather clock that stood at the south wall ticked loudly. Tick. Tick. He fidgeted for a short while, and Seto, rather than slap him for wasting his time, offered him a drink. He went to the kitchen himself and retrieved some black iced tea, pouring two glasses. When he returned, Werenko hadn't moved an inch, was still staring silently at the rug. He said gave near inaudible thanks for the tea and took a long, long drink. Seto drummed his fingers on the armchair. The guest heard, and took a deep breath in, as if to brace himself.

He looked up at last and made eye contact, and Seto felt shock bolt through him at the overwhelming intensity and raw emotion he saw there. The pieces came together.

_Saki looked again to his employees, determined to include them in his brilliant idea. His gaze settled on Werenko, another of the juniors._

"_It's just, well, you know, um... It's a place where, well, men, you know, can go to, well, you know... Relax. And stuff. You know." He looked at Kaiba desperately, willing him to understand before he blushed any harder._

_Wednesday morning's meeting with Delicorp had been like a half remembered dream for Seto... ...He remembered that Werenko guy had seemed to be staring at him, but it could have been his imagination... _

Well, it had been very subtle, so he supposed he could forgive himself for not noticing before. His jaw slackened and they stared at one another for a long moment.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Seto found himself looking away first, rather uncharacteristically. "I see."

"I'm sorry, sir... I just..." How could he finish that sentence? What could he possibly say that could convey what he felt? "I can't stop thinking about you," he started, trying to conjure courage he knew wasn't really there. "You're amazing. You're, well, _inspiring._" Deep breath that didn't quite get the tremor out of his voice. "You're the most intelligent businessman I've ever known, and I can't begin to tell you how much I respect you." He turned his gaze to the clock, lowering his voice. "That's most of the reason I'm doing such a poor job of this." He turned back, his expression softened. "It's also why I had to tell you. It would be like... lying... to be around you and not tell you."

Seto studied the man, his mild shock preventing him from making any quick replies. _Hmm. _Werenko wasn't unattractive at all, really: good physique, strong jaw, sharp cheekbones. Dark hair and eyes, though, no traces of honey...

_How am I supposed to handle this? When did I start getting suitors, for fuck's sake? I don't remember having a cotillion. _

"Well, I'm... flattered." He wasn't, he was too confused and incredulous to be flattered, but it seemed like an appropriate thing to say.

"You're flattered." There was bitter disappointment in his voice already.

"Weren- Akira," he amended, trying to tread lightly, "I, well. I seem to be at a loss for words, here." He raked a hand through his hair compulsively, a habit that only surfaced under significant stress. _How do I- What do I say to this? _He breathed. He had to hand it to the guy; he knew it must have taken real guts, as in, guts of steel, to come here and tell him this. Dealing with emotional people, though, was far from Seto's strong suit. This seemed a situation that could get quite ugly quite quickly. There had to be a way to start... "If there is anything obvious about me, it must be that my company is very, very important to me." He spent another moment composing his next sentence, searching for words that would be merciful, but final. "I couldn't possibly jeopardize my standing, the things I've worked my whole life to accomplish. I... It would not be very professional of me to become romantically linked to an associate." He paused. "I truly am flattered. Really, I haven't had a surprise of this scale in some time."

"Right," he said slowly. "The company, so no office ink. You know as well as I do that we're only working together until the merger is final."

Seto sighed. "True, but... it's not just that." He struggled for something more complete, perhaps even sensitive. "I'm just, I'm effectively married to the company, you see." He ran a hand over his face, as if to smooth non-existent ripples in the skin. "My life is beyond complicated. It's more like a three-ring circus," he admitted, surprising even himself. He almost regretted it, but this wasn't the time to be concerned about his own pride. Something about having to reject this man's advances, maybe, made showing a little weakness more appropriate.

"There's no chance, then." It wasn't even a question.

"I'm sorry," Seto said simply.

He seemed to simmer in the rejection for a moment, but startled Seto with the malice in his next statement. "It's fine, I understand," he sneered. "I'm not good enough for you. I don't fit the bill, not your type. You'd prefer something more along the lines of, say, a blond stripper, right?"

Seto was out of his chair and on the other side of the table in the blink of an eye. He loomed ominously, and Werenko had enough sense at least to look frightened. "I will not be mocked in my own home, _Akira_," he seethed, the last word a cruel twist. "Whatever you may think you know about me, you are wrong."

The death glare fell on the top of Werenko's head. Seto inhaled sharply, regaining some control of his temper. He could understand, somewhat, that Werenko likely didn't mean it, was just upset and unstable. However, he still did not have much regard for either state of being.

"I am not very experienced in these types of... silliness, but even I know better than to insult someone I admire." He turned away and watched the clock pendulum, back and forth, back and forth. How difficult did this really need to be?

"I'm sorry. That was... completely uncalled for." Werenko stood quickly and backed away, toward the door leading to the foyer. "I had no intention of saying anything like that." He sighed as he turned to face the exit. "I meant it, though, about you being... amazing. Just..." He sighed again. "...Just call me, if, you know. You change your mind."

Seto looked up in time to see him show himself out, saw him brush at something on his cheek. All traces of the fury from Werenko's tactless accusation deflated, draining away as the front door closed with its heavy, final sound.

_Shit. I handled that marvelously._

He climbed the stairs back to his office, glaring at the closed laptop as if it had somehow been the cause of the scene. He lifted it open and re-read his lists once more, adding another singular pro:

- Has never come to my home and professed me to be "amazing."

Maybe it was a little unfair to Werenko, but... _Well, it's true. I do appreciate his restraint in that regard. Christ, is that the time?_

"Mokuba, it is now 9:00 PM, and I am walking in the direction of your room," he called down the hall a few moments before beginning the trek. He heard a few satisfying thumps as the little one scrambled into pajamas and under the covers. He poked his head in to check, and was met with the innocent smile to end all others. "Did you brush?"

"Hair or teeth?"

"Very funny. Shall I ask again?"

"Yeeeees, I bruuuuuuuuuuuuushed, Niiiiisaaamaaa..." came the dramatized retort. "Hey, Niisama?"

"Mmm?"

"Who was that guy?"

"An associate."

Mokuba sat up in bed to emphasize his disbelieving gaze. "An employee came to see you? At home?"

Seto nodded at him calmly, and the small Kaiba threw his hands up.

"C'mon, tell me who he was!"

"He was indeed an employee, Mokuba, and I fail to see how his business with me is any of yours." He chuckled at his brother's mock-appalled face. "Bed time now."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, love you, niisama."

Seto's insides squirmed. Would he ever get used to hearing that? "Mmm," and a genuine smile were all the reply he could ever compose, and he gave them, then, before flipping the light switch and softly shutting the door.

* * *

REEEEEEE REEEEEE REEEEEE REEEEEE REEEEEE REEEEEE-

"Urrghhh," SLAM, and the hideous noise stopped at last. Katsuya pulled his pillow from under his head and pressed it to his face for a long moment before peeking at the alarm clock. It was always too early when it came to waking up. He sighed. He'd missed three days this week already; he HAD to go to school today, or risk letting his hard-won scholastic improvement completely relapse.

Dragging himself from his cocoon, he bumbled into the kitchen, only knocking one lamp over in the process, and foraged for breakfast. Some strawberry yogurt and a quick, wake-up-hot shower later, he dressed himself and ordered his morning cab. The crash from his journey across the apartment had woken up his father, who now sat at the dining table reading the morning paper and drinking tea. Katsuya smiled; he had really gotten to like the sight of the man, not only awake with the sun, but without a 40oz beer as his breakfast.

"Feeling better?"

"Not especially," he responded honestly. "I gotta go today, though."

Takeshi nodded. "Mmm. Sorry to hear that. You sure you wanna go? I can call the school..."

"No worries, it was just a... cold... or something." _Oh, yeah, that's genius. _He sniffed loudly for effect. "I was um, really tired these last few days. I'm better now, really." His father hadn't questioned him at all during his mental anguish sabbatical, and he didn't want to arouse suspicion now that he was pretending it was over.

It seemed to work, for the matter was dropped. "You working this weekend?" he asked without looking up.

"Uh..." Katsuya hadn't actually decided yet. "Yeah, about that..."

"Yes?" He did look up, then. Katsuya cringed at the patient expression on his old man's face.

"...Yeah, I'm working," he finished lamely. _'Course I'm workin'. Rent's still due every month, right?_ He changed the subject quickly. "How's everything at the factory?"

"Regulated. But, you know, there's a rumor that this new corporation is gonna buy out the location, if they don't build a new one somewhere. Not that anything would really change, if they did... I'd just be stacking crates of video games instead of calculators." He grinned. "Maybe I could damage one by 'accident' and bring ya home a couple. You still like video games, right?"

Katsuya nodded, smirking. "Yeah, but you wouldn't know it, since I got no time to play these days."

Takeshi dropped his gaze to the paper once more, his shoulders slumped. "You're a kid, Katsuya. You should be playing games." He sighed, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth seeming more pronounced. "You work real hard. Real mature for your age. Hell, maybe you're too mature, makes me forget that sometimes."

Alarmed at the change in his father's demeanor, Katsuya laughed a little too loudly, trying to dispel the somber tone the conversation had adopted. "Me? Mature? C'mon, old man, have you ever met me?" He grinned a wide, cheesy grin and did a little jig. "No maturity here, see?"

It didn't work quite as well as he'd hoped, although Takeshi did smile ever so slightly at his Riverdance recreation. "No, you are. I mean it." He sighed. "I'm not tryin' to be gloomy at you, son. I just... I want you to know. That I'm proud of you. I'm grateful for the things you do for us. I'm just a washed-up old slob, and you gave me another chance. It's more than I deserve."

Katsuya felt a prickling behind his eyes, smiled wide to fight it off. "Aw, dad-"

BZZZZ! The cab had arrived. Katsuya felt the lovely whoosh of relief at avoiding a potentially touching moment and gave his dad a quick hug and a punch in the arm. "Off to be a brick in the wall. Later."

"Have a good day," he called after the fast-moving teen. He was out the door. Takeshi put his paper down and spent the rest of his morning in quiet contemplation, sipping his tea and smiling to himself about things to come.


	12. You Again

Disclaimer: I don't own, I tell you!

* * *

**Chapter 12: You Again**

Akira spat out his coffee when he recognized Katsuya. _The stripper's the duelist? Jounochi Katsuya was the trash at the club? _He barely had time to wipe it up before the kid pulled the door open.

"Hi, Domino High, please, thanks."

Akira smiled into the rear-view, composing himself. These little moments were few and far between, after all, and this was not a good time to blow it. The spectacle at Kaiba's house had been bad enough. He savored it as long as he could. Pulling out into the street, he kept the teenage boy's reflection in his peripheral vision and sped up to five miles over, heading towards the center of the city. The cab was running smooth. He'd gotten it rather last minute. It had been expensive, but the fact that the organization had been able to point him toward it at all had been luck. His cousin had given him his name as a means of asking a favor. He had never dealt with them before.

"You new?" The kid was talking to him.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, the car service ain't ever sent you before, so..."

"Oh, yes sir, I'm new."

"Oh." Katsuya settled back into the seats and sighed. "Thought so. Your cab even smells new. Is it new?"

Akira kept his tone light. "I put some work into it, but it's not fresh from the dealer, no." Fresh from the chop shop was more accurate.

_If Seto Kaiba thinks that confrontation is the extent of my plan, he's mistaken._

He made a left and kept the speed steady.

Akira was not a stupid man. After completing an apprenticeship at a rival corporation, he'd come to Delicorp and climbed up to the title of Chief Operating Officer of the Studio division, a team of artists and concept developers. He'd began as an artist, but a naturally competitive spirit had carried him into the big leagues. It was a small company, just a subdivision of a subdivision, really, but it was his and he was proud of it. He'd not been questioned when he'd asked the CEO to be made one of the external representatives being sent to Kaiba Corp. Since Kaiba had a heavy hand in the company's conceptual and artistic development himself, it was understood that the two would need to be introduced.

Saki, a Senior Vice President and highest-up on the rep team, had asked him about Kaiba before they had left. "You ever heard of him before, this Seto Kaiba? He's the world's scariest seventeen-year old, they say." He'd grinned in that lopsided, sincere way of his. Akira was a little disconcerted by it, then and now.

_Had I heard of him_. He shook his head slightly, remembering. He had heard, or rather, seen, Seto Kaiba for the first time some three years ago. He'd been twenty-two, then. A charity dinner that Gozaburo had taken his heir along for, that Akira himself had been allowed to attend as a replacement for the Director's P.A. She had called in sick with food poisoning, complete with retching sounds that were too realistic to ignore. He'd remembered seeing the fourteen-year-old Seto Kaiba a pace behind the intimidating figure of the former CEO, looking for all the world as composed as a lamb in a field. The director had pointed Gozaburo Kaiba out to him. "His company is always in the top twenty in the annuals. Military something, weapons production, maybe. Dozens of subs and affiliates. He comes to a lot of these things, they say, trying to improve his image."

"Who's the boy?" He remembered noticing how tall he was for such a young age, how deep his eyes.

"Adopted son. You don't want to know what they say about that."

He had, though, and he'd found out, from the secretaries and mail roomers, the ones with friends in other offices. They'd known some things, and he had slowly and carefully traced a thin line of networking into some of Gozaburo's hired help. No one big, household and delivery people mainly, but they heard rumors. He'd pieced together enough to be horrified and enthralled by the stories, with the exceptional young subject.

"Hey, what street is this? Is this a short-cut or something?" Akira glanced over his shoulder into the backseat. Katsuya looked curious, but not suspicious.

"Yeah, a short-cut. We're be there in no time, you'll see."

His interest in Seto Kaiba had been mounting for years. He'd clipped out news articles, subscribed to company mailing lists for any tiny tidbit that might surface. When Gozaburo had taken a swan dive to the pavement nearly a year and half ago, leaving Seto free to pursue a career in (surprise!) the gaming industry, he'd been convinced it was meant to be. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but this was different; he'd been getting to know the young Kaiba heir for a long time. Eight years' age difference seemed a petty thing to be hung up on in the face of serendipity. He'd set up a network of sorts, trying to gently stage some type of collaboration between Kaiba Corporation and Delicorp, staying behind the scenes and watching his opportunity slowly present itself. A man on the perimeter guard of the Kaiba estate had proved not adverse to accepting compensation for a report of the master's agenda, a fact Akira had uncovered on the day of his arrival in Domino.

He'd heard that Kaiba had gone out to an unknown destination three nights in a row the previous weekend, and that on Sunday night, he had returned with company. The guardsman didn't see a face, just a mop of blond hair and a short skirt, plaid like some of the high school uniforms you saw around. It was a good enough description for Akira. Who could blame Kaiba, after all? Such pressure he was under, and what easier way to alleviate the stress than a good old-fashioned romp with a cheap thrill?

He'd tried the direct approach, and now it was time to play hardball. The tart had to go.

"You look familiar," he told Katsuya, breaking the long silence.

"Oh yeah? Where would I know you from?"

"You know, I think it was a business thing."

"A business thing?" His fare looked doubtful.

"Yeah. A business thing." He smiled in what was meant to be a casual way, but Katsuya shivered. There was something infinitely... creepy... about it. He felt like he'd been in this cab for too long. He looked around and felt the first twinge of alarm.

"Well, I'm not exactly whatchya'd call a "business man," so I think maybe it was someone else."

"No, it was you. You have a job. Not a suit and tie job, but a job, right?"

Katsuya looked out the window again. "When did we get on the highway?" Akira didn't respond. "What the hell is going on?" he continued. Nothing but a twitch that may have been a repressed smile. Louder, he persisted. "Where are we going, man? What the fuck do you know about my job?" Blood beat in his ears as Katsuya felt the familiar rising of his temper quicken his pulse and lighten his head. The driver spoke at last.

"I didn't really see you close up, or get your name. I had no idea you were the one from Duelist Kingdom."

"And Battle City," Katsuya snapped, "and you need to answer my questions."

"Not that this matters," he continued as if not interrupted. "Clearly it wasn't enough to pay the bills, eh? Ah, we're almost there."

"Almost _where_!"

Akira's eyes narrowed as he signaled to exit. "You talk a lot."

"Fuck you, guy."

"Hmm."

"What the fuck is going on!" he exploded, slamming his fist into the headrest in front of him.

"I want to know what you want with Seto Kaiba."

The statement was like a bucket of ice water. Shock blotted out rage. "Who are you?" he asked, sounding much calmer than he felt.

"He didn't send me, if that's what you're hoping."

"You got a bone to pick with him or something?"

"What makes you think that's why I ask?" They were west of Domino, out in the fields, heading well outside the city limits at high speed.

"Wouldn't be the first time that asshole got me into some crazy problem, I guess. You gonna try and chop me into pieces, or what, 'cause we can go right now. Pull over, man, let's get this done."

Akira laughed, despite himself. "You're an honest firecracker, you. I'll bet you were a good... time."

"That's it! Pull over, man! Say that to my face, pull over and say it to may face! Do it! NOW!"

_He looks furious,_ _his ears are all red. _"Calm down, silver medal. We're almost there."

"You've already said that," Katsuya growled. He was making a turn, though, into what looked to Katsuya very much like an empty lot. It was an acre, an acre and a half, tops. He stalled the car and got out, walking in a straight line towards... Katsuya could not see. He motioned for him to follow, and Katsuya, seeing no alternative, did so ungracefully.

When they had gained the approximate middle of the swatch of land, Akira turned and addressed him.

"I'm a little sorry to do this."

Katsuya's head blossomed with pain, and he felt himself falling as if from far away. He felt the rough ground under him, blinked ferociously to clear the stars from his eyes. He rolled onto his side only to be delivered a swift kick in the ribs. He gritted his teeth and took a slow breath. There was pain, but not the stabbing, punctured-lung kind.

"What do you want with Seto Kaiba?"

"Nothing that makes this worthwhile, believe me." He almost believed it, and this idiot was going to need to work harder for information than that. He tried opening his eyes, and he was relieved to see that they were focusing. When he saw the two men standing above him, dressed in black and looking like the hired thugs they were, his relief evaporated. He turned his head and saw that another car had parked behind the 'cab.' These goons had crept up behind him and clocked him. _Cowards_. "Look, what's it worth to ya? I do need to get to school, you know." He grunted as a goon-knee settled into the crook of his neck.

"It's funny, it makes more sense knowing that you knew him before that night at the club. I'll bet he was so surprised, seeing his schoolmate and disfavored competitor straddling him for money." There was some scuffling, and the second man bloodied Katsuya's lip for the trouble. He made no progress in getting to his feet. _Ah, fuck, Kaiba, what have you gotten me into now?_

Akira called the guys off, and Katsuya scrambled up to stand, swaying only a little bit. "He's gonna..." He raised a hand to wipe blood from his chin, not wincing when he brushed his lip even though the pain in his head was like a heavy bolt lodged there. He tried to stand more firmly on his feet. He cleared his throat weakly and spoke again, lifted his chin as he strained to keep it steady. "Kaiba's gonna have you killed when he finds out about this."

"You think so, you glorified prostitute?" Katsuya lunged, but one of the goons sidestepped him and brandished a knife of moderate size. He backed off, scowling.

"Yeah, I do."

"I don't. I think you're not even going to tell him. I think you should avoid him from now own, actually."

"You're nuts. What's wrong with you?" Akira advanced, and Katsuya felt the same unease he'd felt when Akira had first smiled at him when he saw the look in his eyes. He leered at him, leaning in close enough for Katsuya to smell his breath. He was so still, this crazy man, and Katsuya felt something akin to revulsion.

"Nothing is wrong with me. I simply think it is worth the trouble, you see. I think he is worth the trouble. I think you are disposable. I think he must see this, and if he does not, I can help him see. I can dig up everything you're ever done, even if you are a virtual nobody, for the right price. It would not be difficult."

Katsuya started to laugh. He couldn't help it. He had always thought Seto himself was crazy, but this guy should have come with a warning label and a straitjacket. "You... He... knows. Everything about me already. He has known since... Who knows?" He kept getting dizzy. He wondered if he had a concussion. That would be inconvenient, indeed. He shook himself and pressed on. "This is stupid of you, I mean. He doesn't like an opponent who tries to sneak around."

Akira paused, briefly. "I don't think you need to bother forming any opinions about the way he thinks. I am telling you to leave off of him, permanently, as of right now. I want you to have nothing to do with him. You will dirty him with your tragic mediocrity. If you will not desist, I will strike out against you further." He placed a hand on Katsuya's shoulder, and the henchmen grabbed his arms to hold him in place when he swatted at it. "You'd rather not see me again, right?"

He brought his leg up deftly and planted the toe of his shoe in Katsuya's groin, and he sagged against his captors' grip. They dropped him and he hit the ground. He heard their footsteps as they went back to their cars, but by the time they had started their engines, he was no longer conscious.


	13. A House in the Country

**A House in the Country**

"Ugh..."

"...private property, son, wake up."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Ya can't take a nap here, I said. Go on, get outta here."

He rolled over slowly, wincing enough for the landowner to take notice. "Hell, son, you alright? What happened to you? Aw, that's a nasty split lip you got there, here, come on with me and I'll get you into the house."

"No, I, uh, school."

"What was that?"

Katsuya sat up, using what felt like most of his strength. "I have to go to school. Been out for... days. Not..." he paused, sitting up on his elbows. "Not passed out, uh, just, out of school. Uh. What time is it?" Blinking, he got a look at the man. He was pretty big, but he had an open, friendly face.

He checked his watch. "I've got about a quarter of twelve." He peered down, doubt written on his face. "I'm not so sure you're in the best shape to be going, though."

"Shit," Katsuya muttered, but it sounded right. The sun stared from almost directly above him. "Uh, looks like I've been here a little while."

"Come on now, we'll get you into the house, my girl Akemi'll fix you up. Got a phone, too, if ya need."

"Thanks," Katsuya said as genuinely as he could, struggling to stand until the big man grabbed him under both arms and hoisted.

"Ah, it's okay. I'm Kyo, by the way. Yamada Kyo. Nice to meet you, even under the circumstances."

"Ah, yeah, uh, Katsuya. Jounochi Katsuya. Thanks a lot."

Kyo waved dismissively. "Can you walk?" Katsuya nodded. "Good. You're heavier than you look, son." He laughed, and Katsuya had a fleeting memory of Kaiba, who had picked him up with such ease. Maybe he really was super-human. He managed a feeble smile. "It's just a five minute trek or so. Damn! What happened to you, son? If you don't mind my asking." _Since he's already asked once before._

"Oh, I'd tell you if I really knew. Some guys beat me up. Well, actually, I got into a bogus cab, and then the driver was asking me crazy stuff, and he brought me here and _then_ some guys beat me up."

Kyo frowned, waiting for further explanation.

"Uh, it's really kind of a long story." Kyo shrugged and started walking, squinting in the near-noon sun. After a moment, Katsuya followed. They didn't talk any more as they went, which Katsuya was grateful for. His head hurt very much, though not quite as much as before. He figured he was probably lucky he hadn't slipped into a coma.

The little house came into view after about five minutes, just as Kyo had promised. A pretty woman Katsuya supposed must be Akemi came out to meet them, fussing in a well-meaning way over his injuries, babbling about willow and valerian and did she still have any of the salve her sister made? Kyo said she did, in the medicine cabinet. He went back the direction they'd come, saying he was losing daylight and wishing Katsuya good day after being thanked again. Twenty minutes later he was drinking some of the most bitter tea he'd ever had, but his head didn't hurt quite so sharply and he felt much calmer. Akemi's sister's salve had made his lip feel better at once, and she had given him a big slice of apple pie. "Homemade," she'd said, sounding modest and proud at once. He liked her immediately. As he chewed his pie, he found himself wondering again who the hell he should call.

_At least I look a bit more presentable this time, and this is much more pleasant than a phone booth. Of course, I was recovering from Seto that time... I wonder if that crazy guy's gotten to him yet. _

_He would... most likely want to know about this._

He stopped then, because he didn't much want to think his next thought, which was of course that he should probably tell him. Soon. Like, now. He sighed deeply, getting the feeling that the tea was somehow keeping him from shaking.

"Um, Akemi?"

"Hmm?"

"May I still use your phone?" She brought him a cordless, which surprised him a bit. The place was so rustic he'd almost expected a rotary. "Thank you very much." He looked into his teacup. It was half gone. He smiled at Akemi, and when she left the room to let him make his call he pinched his nose and drank the rest at once. _Blech._ He counted to thirty, and found he was very, very calm. He very, very calmly dialed information and was connected after a few seconds.

"Information."

"Domino City, Kaiba Corporation."

"One moment."

It was ringing. A young and edgy-sounding woman answered. "Kaiba Corp."

"I need to speak to Mr. Kaiba."

"Right. I'll transfer you to his assistant." Her tone suggested she found it highly unlikely he would actually be doing so. Then again, he had no reason to be sure Kaiba was even in his office. It rang again. The girl who answered this line sounded more than edgy, straight on into panicky.

"Mr. Kaiba's office!" she near-shouted.

"I need to speak with Mr. Kaiba," he said again.

"May I ask who's calling!"

"Katsuya. Jounochi Katsuya."

Her tone changed. "Oh, yes, hold on. I'll connect you to his cell." _Crap, they can do that? _

It rang only once. "Jounochi?" _That's my name, don't wear it out. Or do wear it out, if it'll replace 'dog.'_ "Hello?" Oh, right.

"Kaiba?" Long pause.

"Where are you?"

"Not really sure. Some, well, crazy shit went down when I tried to cab to school." It was so strange, this calm, bizarre conversation with the man who'd been ruining his life consistently for as long as he'd known him.

"Can you describe the area?"

"Are you going to get your chopper or something?" After another pause, he realized Seto had indeed been thinking of it. "I'm in some farmer's house outside of town. Um, west of the city, I think."

"It's fine, the trace is done."

"The trace?"

"I'll be there soon." Click. _Nice talking to you, it's been creepy and frustrating as always. Fucking traced the call?_ Kaiba was such a freak.

* * *

Jounochi was such a... he didn't know what. He'd only known that as soon as his secretary had told him who was on the line he'd felt a horrible anxiety, like if he didn't get to where he was his skin would pull itself loose and run off ahead of him. He raced the bike down the country road, the cottage coming into view. He wasn't sure of anything, but he'd had a bad feeling when Katsuya had not shown up for school again. His phone records indicated that he'd called the cab company he always did to get there, but the call had been forwarded to a throw-away cell phone number. That was a neat trick, and not a hard one to do. He had a suspect.

After Akira's little spectacle, he'd dug around and found his uncle was one of the more reputable Yakuza bosses in Tokyo. Interesting, indeed. He parked the motorcycle in the dirt and walked up to the house, trench coat flapping in the autumn breeze, squinting against the sun that hung overhead. He needed the story, certainly. He approached the door and raised his hand to knock, but a woman pulled it open before he had the chance. "Ah, hi there, I'm Yamada Akemi. This is my house. I guess you're here for the blondie? Come in, please. What's your name?" Her smile was almost as bright as the sun, and he fought the urge to squint again.

"Kaiba. Seto. Kaiba." She didn't seem to recognize his name.

"Well, nice to meet you, young man. Nice bike. He's in the kitchen. Right banged up when he got in here-"

"What?" He was tight as a bowstring.

"-but I fixed him up, here, come on, it's just in here." She led him into the smallish kitchen, which was, of course, filled with the smell of the apple pie Jounochi was eating. He relaxed a tiny bit. If he was eating, he couldn't be that bad off.

Katsuya looked at him serenely for a moment. "Akemi? Can you make some of that tea for my friend here? If it's okay..."

"Sure hon. I've still got some in the kettle," she said, already getting a mug and filling it. "Here you go. Seto took a big sip and strained not to make a face. Katsuya looked like he was trying not to laugh. He defiantly drank deeply from it, keeping his face perfectly still as the vile stuff settled rather well in his stomach. His mind seemed like it was clearing somehow, and he stared straight back. "I'll leave you two, holler if you need something," Akemi said, departing.

"Valerian."

"Hmm?"

"It's valerian root. The tea."

"Oh."

Silence. Knowing the root would calm him considerably and recognizing Katsuya's strangely subdued manner as its work, Seto drank the rest, his little finger sticking up to Katsuya's continued amusement. It seemed like a good idea.

Katsuya finished his pie, carefully wiping every last crumb from his face and placing the dish in the sink. He sat back down. "That's cute."

"What is?" Normally a comment like that would set him off, but at the moment his tea was working and he was genuinely interested in what Katsuya was referring to.

Cocking his head at him, he said, "Well, your finger, but everything, I suppose. In a way. You. You're cute."

"Thank you." It didn't seem so hard to say, when he thought about it. Not hard at all.

"So, somebody told me if I contacted you he would 'strike against me further.'"

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

"Well, I called a cab, and when I went downstairs, there was a cab there, but the driver was fucking crazy. I mean, he seemed... obsessed. With you. He knew about... Well. He doesn't approve of my job."

"Hmph."

"Okay... well, anyway, he doesn't actually seem to approve of my existence in general. He brought me here, and then two goons knocked me out."

"I see."

"You see."

Seto leaned forward, staring intently at him. "That was my business associate, Werenko Akira. He expressed... interest... in me, and I turned him down. I suppose he is not taking it well."

"S'pose not." He waited.

"I..."

"I know. But you can't just take it out on me, you see? You can't terrorize me because you can't deal." He leaned forward himself, closing more of the distance between them. Seto's mind was still very clear, each word spoken settling deep into its fabric and mulling quietly. "I don't know, I don't but... all this is really... intense. I didn't come looking for this, you know. I'm just trying to deal with it, same as you."

"I know," Seto said very quietly, deep in thoughts he hadn't let himself think for weeks. "I. I don't hate you." Not quite an apology, but the best he could do.

Katsuya had the nerve to smile at him. "I know."

"I'll take you home." He stood up. "And then I'll deal with Akira."

* * *

"Whooooooo!" Katsuya shouted behind him as he sped along the freeway, weaving fearlessly through the traffic. He had looked pleased to see the motorcycle parked in front of the house after profusely thanking Akemi and promising to eat the rest of the pie she'd unloaded on him. Seto had no doubt that he would. It was in one of the massive side bags. Seto smirked at his joyous exclamation and twisted the throttle, feeling those skinny arms squeeze him more tightly around the middle. When he let up, Katsuya's grip didn't loosen.

He pulled up in front of the apartment building and put down the kickstand, turning to watch Katsuya swing his leg over the bike. He took off his helmet and gazed at him, fishing around in a pocket. Aha.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"Push the button. I'll come."

"Aww, that's sweet." Seto's eyes narrowed and he moved as if to take it back, but Katsuya side-stepped him and clutched it. "Okay. If any more crazy employees of yours intercept my transportation, I'll be sure to, uh, push it." He smiled, and Seto ignored the flutter. "I will. We should really..." _Talk more,_ he wanted to say, but couldn't quite form the words.

"We will." He looked off down the street, in the direction of the P's P.

"Okay."

He hesitated, but shook his head slightly and put his helmet back on, racing off without another word. Katsuya watched him until he could no longer see the fast-moving speck. He hadn't really expected it to go so well, but he had thought for a moment Seto would...

Oh well. They had the button, and that was a start.


	14. Rising Pressure

Howdy hey! Sorry, another short one, but not too long till the next one, kay? I wanted to actually do one long chapter, but there's a break in the middle-ish and I wanted to give you guys something sooner than later. Hope you like it...

I've disclaimed enough times, right?

**Chapter 14: Rising Pressure**

Friday morning, Kaiba arrived at the office an hour and a half before the Delicorp meeting and picked up the phone to call Mr. Saki.

"Saki here!" He sounded as cheerful as ever, and Kaiba sighed, reluctant to say what he had to.

"Kaiba."

"Mr. Kaiba, good morning. In the office already? Don't you ever sleep?" He laughed his big laugh unselfconsciously. Kaiba blinked at the possibility that Saki was actually getting comfortable with him, a testament to the man's undeniable and almost invasive friendliness.

"Now and then. Unfortunately, I have a very important matter to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

Kaiba took a breath. "Are you alone right now?"

"Well yes, Mr. Kaiba... what's this about?" He sounded nervous now, the jubilation finally dissolving.

"It's Werenko Akira."

To his surprise, Saki laughed again. "Aw, Mr. Kaiba, try to be nice to him. He's been talking about you for years. He almost wet himself when he heard about the merger, couldn't have stopped him coming with the rep group if we'd tried. Honestly, it's the cutest thing, you know after we were at that club he was going on about how trashy the dancer was, he was so jealous..." Saki was still laughing, and Kaiba was trying not to start yelling.

_Maybe I should look into getting some of that tea, very helpful stuff._ He took a breath instead. "It's interesting you should say that. Listen, Mr. Saki, I wouldn't want to embarrass you, or your employees, or your company in any way, so I think it would be best if you sent Werenko home. Before today's meeting."

"Really, Mr. Kaiba, it's just a crush, I'm sure he can maintain a profess-"

"_No,_ Mr. Saki, I don't think he can." Silence, comprehension on the other end of the line.

"Something happened."

"I'd rather not go into anything, Mr. Saki, but please, take my advice. Send him home. Do it as a personal favor to me, ne?"

"Of course, no problem, so sorry, right, I'll, um, I'll see you soon. For the meeting," Saki responded, his voice heavy with confusion and concern.

"One more thing..."

"Yes, Mr. Kaiba?"

"No mention of this conversation, alright?"

"...Sure, alright." Kaiba rang off and sat back, covering his face with his hands.

Naturally, there was almost no chance Werenko would simply go home, but he wanted to at least give him the chance to walk away. For someone obsessed with him, Akira seemed unaware of how Kaiba generally dealt with those who got in his way.

The intercom buzzed. He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Mr. Kaiba, there's someone to see you."

"...And?"

"...And they say it's very urgent. They say it's regarding the future of the merger... and your personal life," she quivered. No amount of time working as Kaiba's assistant could neutralize the fear he naturally inspired, apparently. He stared at the intercom.

"Mr. Kaiba?"

"Send them in, then."

A moment later, Mai Valentine and an older man he'd never seen before entered his office. Mai sat down with a graceful motion, though he hadn't offered her a seat, but the old man stayed where he was, having the good sense to look a little nervous. On second look, the man wasn't that old, just a little weathered; he looked sort of familiar somehow, come to think on it, but Kaiba was sure they'd never met. He turned to Mai and drew breath to speak, but Mai was too fast.

"So Seto, how are you? Everything going well? Good, I'm glad. I've got to ask you a favor, actually, to be perfectly frank."

"Shocking." Wasn't that what everyone wanted? His tone was sarcastic, but honestly, Kaiba _was_ a little shocked. Mai was generally independent to a fault. _Not a favor on her own behalf, then._ He tilted his chin towards his other guest.

"Right, sorry. Seto Kaiba, meet Jounochi Takeshi." Takeshi bowed wordlessly. He still looked nervous. _Ah, that why he looks familiar,_ Seto thought. _His son's my-_

_He's Katsuya's father._ Still, that wasn't really an explanation for their presence. Seto was torn; he didn't want to give Mai too much of an upper hand, but he didn't know how to proceed without revealing his bewilderment. He settled for remaining silent, hoping Mai would say something more and this bizarre turn of events would begin to make sense. Were they going to tell him to buzz off and leave Katsuya alone? Would they try to bribe or even blackmail him somehow?

As if hearing his thoughts, Mai smiled and began to explain. "We're not trying to pull anything, Seto, we just... have a good idea, and I think you would benefit from it too. I hear you're buying a warehouse in midtown and converting it to a packaging center for Delicorp games."

Seto's brows lifted. "Didn't think you read _Fortune_, Mai."

She smiled beatifically. "I don't, I just hear things, you know. Anyway, it's true, right?" Seto nodded. "Well, you'll be needing a floor manager, then."

He shook his head slowly. "You want to work in a factory, Mai? Won't you break a nail?"

Takeshi's voice jerked him a little; he'd not expected an answer from him, rather than Mai. "Now, I'm perfectly willing to apply via the normal channels, give you my resume and everything, but Mai was sure it would be a good idea to come and talk to you personally, Mr. Kaiba, sir, and I'm obviously not sure you haven't already filled the position, I mean, you likely don't even handle that stuff personally, you've got people to do that..." he trailed off, looking at the floor. The man drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and looked at Kaiba again. "I can do the job, though. I was a supervisor at my old warehouse, before my... illness. I wouldn't bother asking for a job I couldn't do. I'd like a chance... a chance to support my family," he said meaningfully.

Finally something clicked. "Katsuya could quit, " he murmured to himself, but Takeshi's eyes glinted, hearing him.

"Right."

Kaiba looked at him hard, then Mai. "Why are you doing this?"

Mai had the nerve to roll her eyes. "What, you're phased? Katsuya is my friend, Takeshi needs a better job, you need a manager for your warehouse, and I don't have plans for today." She flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, do you like, need time to think about it, or something?" Her tone was tinkly, but her eyes were full of mirth. Kaiba wasn't a fan of being patronized, even at the best of times.

His eyes narrowed, but he knew she was right, and her idea was a good one. "No, I don't." He turned to Takeshi. "Welcome to the company. I'll have someone contact you about your new position by the end of next week."

Takeshi's smile was dazzling, looking more like his son than ever in that moment. Kaiba rose, with a twinge, and extended his hand. Takeshi grasped if firmly and sealed the deal in a handshake.

"That was easy! Glad not every thing'slike pulling teeth with you. Now!" Mai rose from her seat and placed her fists on Kaiba's desk, leaning forward. "What are you going to do about Katsuya?"

_God, today's going to be a long one._ He shut his eyes warily, slumping back into his chair. If Mai was taken aback by this uncharacteristically morose display, she did not show it, and when he opened his eyes she was still peering at him.

"Well, since you're so full of bright ideas, what would you suggest?"

"Well, first off, I'd apologize for the heavy glass thing," she said unflinchingly. "_Way_ out of line, Mr. Bigshot."

"You're making this very difficult."

Mai threw up her hands and turned away. "No, honey, you don't get that from me. That's all you. If you can't even bring yourself to feel bad about it, though, I'd say he deserves better than you anyhow."

Kaiba sprang to his feet, frustrated and angry and no longer caring if they could tell. "You think that's what it is? I don't feel bad? It hasn't occurred to you that the worse the offense is, the harder the apology? What the hell am I going to say that doesn't sound trite? 'Sorry, I aimed an inch off because I'd hate for you to actually get hurt'? Or maybe 'Sorry I didn't make you pancakes instead of trying to take you out with a paperweight'? You have NO IDEA what this has been like!" He clenched his fists, sitting back down hard.

Mai looked slightly mollified, which actually annoyed him further. Takeshi looked like he was ready to leave about five minutes ago.

"I have some idea, Seto," she said softly, an odd look crossing her face. What was that? Compassion? Kaiba looked away; he didn't want understanding from her. They was only one person's understanding he needed, and he was...

"Hey, where is Katsuya?" he addressed Takeshi.

"School. He took the bus today, said he doesn't want to waste the money on cabs anymore." Takeshi seemed puzzled even as he relayed the explanation, and Kaiba deduced that Katsuya had not told him what had happened yesterday. Akemi's sister's salve had apparently kept the fat lip from becoming an issue of concern.

"Good," Kaiba said with genuine relief. Mai's look sharpened into suspicion.

"Why do you ask?"

_Aw fuck, does nothing get past this chick? _"Curiosity," he said, glaring at her. "Do I need a reason?"

"Why'd you look so relieved? Where might he be otherwise?"

"Look, it's been very nice to see you, and it was nice to meet you, Mr. Jounochi, but I have a meeting starting at 9:00 AM sharp, so..."

Mai nodded curtly, but the suspicious look was still there. "Alright. You're not telling me something, though, and you'd better hope it doesn't end up costing Katsuya anything that you wouldn't say what it is."

"Is that a threat?"

Mai's expression was one of pity, and she left his office without comment. Takeshi bowed again quickly and hurried after her.

* * *

Werenko Akira was sitting in his hotel room, his suitcases half-packed, muttering unintelligibly to himself. He had just received a phone call from Mr. Saki, in which the soft-headed supervisor had told him to go ahead and head back to headquarters and not go to the morning meeting. He hadn't said why, and Werenko hadn't asked. He knew it had to be Kaiba.

Why didn't he understand, he only wanted to love him? To take care of him after so many years of taking care of himself and his brother? Clearly, Kaiba didn't have any idea of what Akira was trying to offer him, what they could be together.

_It's that trashy wannabe-dualist stripper,_ he seethed. _He's under its spell, he can't see reason! He can't see what's right in front of him. I shouldn't have left him alive, that was my mistake. Well, I'll fix it, I'll get rid of it, that disgusting thing, and then he'll see. We'll be so happy, they'll all see!_

He had no idea he'd been clenching his fists so hard until he opened his hands and saw the bloody crescents in his palms.


	15. Ready for the Fight

**Disclaimer: **No serious disrespect is meant by the use and homosexualization of YuGiOh story and/or characters.

A note: It is my intention to finish the story in the coming days. It won't be long now. To those who have stuck with this story for all these years, I cannot thank you enough. You keep me going when I would have given up. To those new readers, thanks to you as well. You motivate me to get better and keep working.

You guys ready for this?

**Chapter 15: Ready for the Fight**

"Please pass your term papers forward," sensei instructed, snapping Katsuya out of his trance. He exhaled in relief that he'd finished it early; it would have been impossible to write about the implications of aestheticism in the eastern world with the week he'd had. He pulled it out of a folder, smoothed it, and handed it forward before packing up and hopping out of his seat to leave for the day. It was Friday.

_ Whooooo! Weekend times! _ His enthusiasm dwindled as quickly as it had arisen. _...Which means I'm working tonight. Great. _

Not that he'd loved his job before, but Werenko's assault left him feeling like he had an enormous target painted on his back. P's P was one place Werenko would definitely know where to find him. _Not to mention- _ He cut himself off. No, he wouldn't mention.

He ambled to the bus stop among a throng of students, backpack slung over one shoulder, debating to himself. He knew he had no real choice; rent was due next week. Granted, he had the money in his account, but... well, rent would be due next month, too, to say nothing of all the other bills and expenses. His father had been in a good mood this morning, though, saying that it didn't look like the warehouse would be firing him after the conversion. Katsuya hadn't known that was a possibility. The money he made there was not quite enough to make minimum payments to the various debtors he'd accrued, of course, but it was better than nothing, better than him sitting at home all day, maybe being tempted... anyway.

_Well, _that_ could suck worse than it does, at least!_ Katsuya rolled his eyes at himself. _Whoo. I'll just start planning the party, then. _He shook himself. _Right, no more poor pitiful me, yeah? There's lots to be thankful for, and things could always be worse. I should know._ He hesitated, then thrust his hand into his right pocket, retrieving a small device and turning it over in his hands, gently fingering the upraised button. _Yeah, it could be worse._ He clutched it firmly, holding it to his chest. He wondered what would happen if he pressed it. _When nothin's goin' on? Nothin' good, for sure. Likely Kaiba'd smear me across the pavement for wastin' his time. _A depressing thought. But maybe he was wrong? His fingers uncurled as he looked at it again, seized by a wave of curiosity. _Aw, c'mon, I could always say it was an accident! _He was frozen, possessed by images of a windswept Seto hanging from his chopper, or speeding into view on his bike or in one of his sports cars, grabbing him roughly and growling, "You alright, mutt?" Just as he was about to throw caution to the wind, the bus pulled up and he was pushed from behind by the milling of prospective passengers. With a last look, he stowed the device back in his pocket and boarded the vehicle.

_Terrible idea anyway, _he thought as he settled into a seat in the back. _Remember the boy who cried wolf? What if that crazy freak really showed up, and Kaiba was all annoyed from my shenanigans and ignored me?_ He shuddered at the thought as the familiar anxiety re-intensified. He knew he didn't want to keep living in this state of agitation and fear, but he couldn't decide if he wanted Akira to show up so he could kick some ass or just drop off the planet and never be heard from again. He scowled. He hated waiting.

* * *

"KIAI!" roared Seto as he slashed across the midsection of his kenjutsu sparring partner and sensei, an American named Alexander from the Yama Kei Ryu dojo. Alexander sidestepped as they continued the kata, their bokuto whizzing swiftly through the air and clacking together in practiced cadence. Seto faltered slightly and the kata ended, Alexander's wooden sword hovering an inch above his neck. He scowled, and they both stepped back and bowed, crouching simultaneously in their hakama.

"Do you want to practice your iaijutsu?" Alexander asked in his soft voice. Seto nodded curtly, exchanging his bokuto for a katana and securing it in his obi, concentration carved into his face. He placed his hands on the mat before him and bowed again before straightening and drawing his katana with frightening speed, making three equally swift cuts and then gracefully replacing the sword in its scabbard at his left side. He went through half a dozen iai kata before Alexander gently called to him.

"Stop now. I can see you're distracted," Alexander said. Seto dropped his gaze, frustrated. "Your technique is good, Kaiba, but you seem to lack your usual thoughtless agility today. I can see you're thinking ahead of your muscles, and you're hacking with your katana. A katana isn't used to chop, a katana-"

"-cuts," finished Seto. "Yes, I know. And yes, I do have things on my mind." He looked at Alexander's face impassively, without any of the twinging he once felt. Alexander was talented, patient, intelligent, and beautiful, with large, deep-set dark eyes, a strong slope of a nose, and long, reddish-black hair. He was an excellent teacher of martial arts, and his very presence had a lovely, soothing quality. He also was as heterosexual as the day was long. Seto had come to value Alexander's companionship in their practice together, and would never have jeopardized it by making a pass, but still... he had of course wondered, once upon a time. He realized that the only thing that had changed, and could explain the dissolution of his interest, was Katsuya.

Alexander's head tilted slightly, waiting for Kaiba to speak. _This man... is perhaps one of my only friends,_ Kaiba realized with a pang. "Should I speak to you of my troubles, sensei?" Kaiba snorted. Alexander's face did not change, still composed and waiting. Seto deflated. "I have been violent toward those who did not provoke me, and failed to protect one who incurred injury on my account. I have an enemy that I cannot find, and wishes harm to those I care about," he confessed. "I have lost control," he finished, willing himself not to shake.

Alexander's face was calm and compassionate. "Let's try the kata again. This time, instead of visualizing me as the enemy, focus on the person you want to protect, right behind you," he said. "Stop thinking so hard, don't get mad, just focus on that, okay?" Seto nodded, unsheathing his katana. "You want to use blades instead of bokuto? Very well," Alexander smiled. They slashed and danced together, neither able to best the other until they both poured sweat and Alexander called to stop. "Much better, Kaiba. You're improving beyond the level I can teach you, you know," he said in his gentle voice. "It's nice to have a student like you."

Seto swallowed. "Thank you, sensei. You've been a good teacher, and... well."

"Friend, perhaps?"

"I don't have many of those."

"Well, you have one, at least." Alexander's katana slid back into its case, and the two bowed to each other again. Seto found himself smiling, in spite of everything.

"Have you ever been in love, sensei?" It was the closest he'd come to admitting it, even to himself.

"Oh yes," Alexander said cheerfully. "Although, I imagine the story's not nearly so interesting as yours. I have to go, unfortunately, but please... let me know how this all turns out, okay? I'm here if you need anything."

"Does anything include assisting me in dispatching a psychotic and potentially lethal admirer?"

Alexander laughed. "Shit, I hope not!"

Once he'd gone, Seto spent a few minutes in meditation before moving into a strengthening routine of elevated push ups, triceps dips, floor jumps, and pistol squats, pushing his body to exert every fiber of rage, confusion and despair out of his pores, finally collapsing in sweet, well-earned exhaustion. He left the dojo and walked back toward the front of the house and up the stairs to his bedroom, carefully removing and refolding his kimono, obi, and hakama before scrubbing himself vigorously in the shower. He emerged famished, and pulled on his blue robe to head down to the kitchen for a late lunch. Looking at the clock, he realized it was a very late lunch indeed; it was nearly four o'clock.

He made himself a generous sandwich and enormous green salad without dressing, sitting down at the table to chew slowly and thoughtfully. It was Friday, which he well knew was a work night for Katsuya. The thought was almost unbearable; he was, for once, without a plan.

_It would be one thing if I knew he was doing that job for kicks, or at least that he enjoyed it. Humph. I'll have to overpay his father if what I've heard about the tips he pulls in is true._ Finishing his meal, he leaned forward on his elbows, palms together before his face. _And of course, he'll fight me over it, fucking mutt's pride will be all wounded._ He smiled to himself. _I've got to figure out a way to keep him from working there again without dealing a bruise to his ego, or he'll keep working there just to retaliate at me somehow. _He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. This would not be easy. Or maybe it could be easy...?

_ You could try being honest, _said that overwhelmingly infuriating little voice in his mind. _You could say, "Katsuya, I care for you, and I don't want you to do this to me or to yourself. I've given your father a job he can support you both with, though I want to take care of you myself. I don't want you to be ashamed, and I don't want you to be objectified, and I don't want you to be targeted by cretins and deviants. Leave the club, for me and for yourself." How would that be, hmmm? Too honest for you? _

"Shut UP," he groaned aloud, pushing himself up from the table and carrying his plates to the sink. Gazing out through the window above the sink, Seto suddenly got the curious sensation that he was being watched. Schooling his features to expressionless, he used his peripheral vision to scope his vast grounds before spotting an unmoving smudge behind the rosebushes 50 yards away. Very discretely, he walked slowly to the intercom on the wall and pushed the button.

"Yes, sir?" asked his head of security.

"Without alerting him, I want you to round up the intruder in the northwest rose garden and bring him directly to me," Kaiba said. "Do not put out a general alert. I want you to hand-pick four men to do the job. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Kaiba. Consider it done."

Seto put a kettle of water on to boil, extracting a small box of hand-mixed valerian root teabags. By the time the water had boiled, he glanced out the window to see that the security team was in position and the spying hedge-dweller was being subdued swiftly and silently. His intercom buzzed just as he set the tea bag into the water.

"We've got him, Mr. Kaiba," came the head of security's voice.

"Good work. I'll receive him in my study."

"Mr. Kaiba, I regret to inform you that the man is not exactly an intruder," the disembodied voice continued.

"Oh?" Before any clarification arrived, however, a guard was standing in the doorway, waiting to accompany him to the study to face the threat. Seto sipped his tea and headed through the doorway.


	16. Night Falling

Disclaimer: No owning, no whatever, you all get the picture.

Warning! This chapter contains disturbing imagery and strong violent themes. But... that kind of thing wouldn't deter you, would it?

**Chapter 16: Night Falling**

Katsuya had to face facts; his apartment was clean, his homework done, he'd had supper and paid the bills. There was officially nothing left to do but pack his work bag and head out to the club. He didn't technically need to leave for another two and a half hours. He stood stock-still in the center of his living room, willing himself to be less apprehensive. He slumped down to sit heavily on the floor, utterly disgusted with himself.

_What the eff. I've been doin' this nearly a year now. What's the big deal? Okay, the big deal is... that fuckin' freak wants to kill me, and he knows I work there, and who I am, and Kaiba... Kaiba. Kaiba Kaiba Kaiba._

He lay back and stretched out on the floor, uncomfortable and aware that his father would come home at six. Katsuya had to pull it together before then. He couldn't very well explain his attitude to the man.

_Well dad, I'm love, or lust, or something, with a guy I'm pretty sure I hate, at least mostly, at least I did, and because of that I'm not sure if I should continue being a stripper, which, by the way, I am. Right. So yeah, not sure about the stripping because I really want this guy, I think, no, I'm sure I do, really, and he doesn't seem to like too much that I'm a stripper, I mean, except when he does like it too much, and then throws shit at me. Oh, and if I do quit stripping, we're gonna have to move out of this nice apartment and all the creditors are gonna start calling again and you'll get depressed and start drinking and I'll get depressed and start running with a gang again and then Kaiba DEFINITELY won't want anything to do with me. Also, some crazy fucker wants me dead because of, you guessed it, his freaky obsession with Kaiba, who of course doesn't want him because he wants me. Or at least wants to throw things at my head. I think. I hope. That he wants me, not that he wants to- oh, you get it. Oh, and I'm gay, by the way. Yeah, I like the penis. Hope you weren't dead-set on grandchildren. Although, we could always adopt-_

_ Okay! Enough! Kaiba knows what day it is, and so does that crazy guy, and if either of 'em feel like showing up and freaking out, well, they can just feel free. Not a thing to be done about it. They could easily come here, too. I'm going to the club tonight, and I'm going to dance, and it's most likely going to be fine. At least Big Tony's there, right? Yeah! Heh, maybe Kaiba'll show up and be all like, "I refuse to allow this, mutt. From now on you shall only engage in stripping for fun and our mutual pleasure!" Sweet. Heh heh. Heh. Right._

He was remembering their night together then, and he pushed the thought away with ambivalence. He could stand no more internal conflict for the moment. Completely out of ideas, Katsuya hauled himself to his feet, went into his room, set an alarm and flopped onto his bed for a nap. It was as good a way as any to pass the time.

* * *

Seto stared at the man his security had brought him in bemused silence, sipping at his calming tea. _Well, this explains a few things._ He sat down on a plush sofa across from the man, regarding him silently, watching as he began to fidget. Finally, he finished his tea, set down the mug, and cleared his throat to speak.

"Aizawa. You've been one of my guards for... six years, correct?"

The man sneered. "No _sir_, Mr. Kaiba, I've only been one of _your_ guards since the death of Gozaburo a year and a half ago."

Seto absorbed this and stared at him, without any expression whatsoever, for a long moment before he continued his questioning. "And you've been paid for intelligence for how long?"

Aizawa kept silent, though he was beginning to look nervous. He'd seen Seto angry before, and those displays of temper were something different from this sanguine, unreadable Seto. He found it quite unsettling. Seto leaned forward, smiling at him with no joy at all.

"Given your attitude regarding the, ahem, unfortunate demise of the man who adopted, fed, sheltered, trained, and raised me, I feel it should not be necessary to remind you that I am not adverse to more creative methods of making you answer my questions. You'll remember Death T, perhaps?" His smile dissolved, his face peaceful and frightening once more. "Now, the question was, how long have you been paid to spy on me?"

Silence. Seto sighed, beckoned to one of his other loyal guardsman and murmured a request. He departed swiftly, and Seto turned back to Aizawa. "If you'll notice, I do not ask you _who_ is paying you, only how long. It really shouldn't bother Akira too much for you to divulge this detail, as his identity is obviously the real prize, ne?"

Aizawa's eyes had widened at the mention of the name, and he responded with an air of hopelessness. "He... may disagree, as it happens. And really, the answer is more complex than you know." He inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake.

_Hmmm, he wasn't supposed to say that. Well, maybe I shouldn't assume. _Just then, the guard returned with a seemingly innocuous pair of pruning shears and a bucket from the gardener's shed. Seto nodded to the two guards that flanked Aizawa, and they abruptly seized him and pulled him from the chair, forcing him to his knees. The third guard placed the bucket behind him, positioned just under his hands, before offering the shears to Seto with a bow. Aizawa's mouth tightened into a grim line, but Seto could see fear in his eyes. He crossed the room to kneel next to Aizawa, taking hold of the smallest finger of his left hand.

"So, I will ask my questions, and you shall have ten chances to answer. Yes? Ten chances." He positioned the shears around the finger, and Aizawa let out a small gasp.

"Mr. Kaiba, honestly, you say you already know who I'm working for, so why does it even make any difference-"

Kaiba squeezed gently, just enough to remind Aizawa of the shears' purpose. "Oh, well, actually, I don't believe you've confirmed that name, come to think on it. Perhaps we should start there instead, hmm?"

Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. "Please, you don't know what they'll do to me-"

Seto gazed at him, and pulled down his shirt collar enough to expose the beginnings of his full-body tattoos. Aizawa watched him look. "Who, the Yazuka? Trust me, they don't know any tricks I don't." Seto brought his lips close to Aizawa's ear. "Gozaburo was actually fascinated by the work of Shiro Ishii, did you know that?" He squeezed his eyes shut, heard Aizawa's breath quicken and heart pump faster. "And as I'm sure you'll remember, he was always so generous when it came to imparting me with knowledge." Was that sorrow in his voice? "You should be happy all I'm threatening is fingers... you know what a vivisection is, don't you?" Aizawa's mouth worked soundlessly. "Now, question number one. What is the name of the man who hired you to spy on me?"

"No, you can't do this! Death T was just a rumor! You're just a kid!" Aizawa's eyes were showing white all around, and spittle flew from the corners of his mouth. "I kept you safe! I guarded you while you slept!" he shrieked.

Seto leaned in to the side, looking at Aizawa full in the face. "Yes, you did. I have taken that under consideration. Is that your final answer?" He sounded sad, but his grip on the handle kept tightening. The shears finally bit through the skin, and when Aizawa heard the first few splattering drops of blood hit the bucket, he screamed.

* * *

_He was hiding from his father. He was hiding from the noise and the smell and the scary things he said, and he was very small and he still fit into the space between the bed and the wall, and his father was crying again and looking for him... and he wondered why he drank (why is he drinking again?) but wait, his father didn't drink anymore. He got up and left the room, and it was his own apartment, with his own things. He saw deep shadows at the end of the hall and when he went further, he saw a figure lurch forward, and he remembered he'd been hiding. He was hiding form someone, something, but it only looked like his father. It was his father, and it was not, it was more. He went back the way he'd come, backed into a room, his room? and he was thinking "invisible, invisible, invisible" but the door opened anyway. It was not his father, it was a huge, hulking man with a mustache in a suit, holding a collar in an outstretched hand. He thought, "run, somewhere else" and Katsuya tried to back up, hit a wall, and then turned to find an exit but he was somewhere else. He was in a desert, it was twilight and the shadows of the dunes twisted and writhed. It was so lovely, and he thought he never saw anything so pretty as the desert at night and something was coming, but it was okay, it was safe. A man came up riding a strange horse, a horse that looked like it was made of ice, a horse that moved strangely, almost reptilian. The man on the horse (dragon?) was on fire (?), no, he was _shining_ and he rode up and then was right there, in front of him in the vast space, and of course it was Seto. Seto reached down from the dragon (the Blue Eyes) and dismounted and the dragon melted into the shadows. Seto was kissing him, and Katsuya wanted him but something was wrong but he couldn't stop and tell him, and he tried to pull back to tell Seto what was wrong but instead Seto went to his knees before him. He felt the warm rush of arousal and Seto kissed him through the material of his garment, and then Seto wasn't there anymore, he was in the distance now. Katsuya tried to go to him, tried to rush, to embrace, to warn, but his limbs didn't work properly and he couldn't move fast enough. The hulking man in the suit materialized as the desert sky melted onto the landscape, and everything was dark, lit by the moon. Wait, it wasn't the moon at all; it was Seto's skin, which was shimmering, gorgeous and scaled. It was armor. It was so beautiful that everything stopped. The light was dazzling, and then the huge man, so big! was there again and he was grinning at Katsuya and his shadow fell across Seto and extinguished his brightness. He once more held out the collar, shaking it at Katsuya and took a fistful of hair and wrapped it too tightly around Seto's neck. Seto's mouth opened to scream and Katsuya couldn't move fast enough, his arousal had shifted to a sharp ache, and someone held his leg and he looked down to see it was a snake. The snake squeezed and Katsuya waited for the pain but it didn't come, so he kicked out over and over until the snake uncoiled and stretched and became something else, it was the big suited man but it was another man, __the man from the cab. He said, "Mine, mine, mine," and he drooled and cackled and Katsuya became very frightened when he saw the collar in his hand. His mouth didn't feel like it moved enough to say, "Who are you?" and he couldn't, but he knew who he was, didn't he? He saw Seto choking on the collar and the drooling man was on him, and he felt the collar against his own neck and looked at his attacker and it looked like Seto. "No, no, you're..." but he was drowned out by the busy noises of a city. He turned and the man was no longer behind him, and he no longer looked like Seto. He was old and he had a mustache, and he was standing on a ledge, and Katsuya could see out from a huge window, an entire clear wall. He was standing on the window ledge, and he knew that he was too high up. The man said, "There is a lesson here." He fell from the window, and Katsuya saw the collar fly through the air and a hand reached out and grabbed Seto, and Seto closed his eyes and fell with him, and Katsuya tried to run, tried to catch him, and his fingers reached out but it was too late._

"No-!" a strangled shout and Katsuya woke himself from the dream. He froze, not even breathing, and when he realized he was safe in his own room he sobbed with relief. He shuddered back into his sheets, sweat gathering on his skin. He took a long, shaky breath. His alarm was about to go off; it was 8:13 PM. He slid the alarm switch off, and buried his face into his pillow. He didn't need to be told something was going to happen tonight.

* * *

Seto was washing blood from his hands in the kitchen sink, leaning heavily against the counter, trembling in spite of the valerian. Thankfully, his bluff had worked; as soon as he'd so much as scratched Aizawa, he'd told Seto everything he wanted to know, some of which was very upsetting.

Akira hadn't hired him; Akira's uncle_,_ Watanabe Yoshinori, the fifth kumicho (the head of the yakuza "family" Yamaguchi-gumi), had installed him from the beginning. Gozaburo had been blackmailed and pressured by the Yamaguchi-gumi of course, as most large corporations in the city had. Gozaburo had actually written their payoff into his budget, Seto had found after taking over. He hadn't known that the head of the organization had a personal interest. Aizawa told him that when Gozaburo had been running a military technology company, Watanabe had been mightily interested; when Seto took over and started building theme parks and dual disks instead of missiles and fighter aircrafts, he'd instructed Aizawa to stay. The reason seemed to be along the lines of "just in case." Apparently, this infuriated Aizawa; this was why he was so bitter about Gozaburo's death, not because of any fondness for the man. He felt the job had become a write-off. This new, younger Kaiba never did much of anything he wouldn't own up to, nor did he show any inclination toward resuming weapons design or anything else that could be useful. Well, he hadn't since Death T, anyway.

Seto shuddered from his core, awash with the ghost of the bleak, insane rage that had spurred him to create that horror. Then, defeat, and the yawning emptiness of his shattered mind; finally, his grueling journey back from the Shadow World. He did not want it back, he did not want be the husk Gozaburo had left him or that Yuugi had reduced him to, and he had not enjoyed questioning the operative. His thoughts slid back to what Aizawa had told him.

It got worse.

A few weeks ago, Aizawa had explained, gasping, something changed. He was expected to report much more than before; suddenly, details of the everyday comings and goings were important. Rumors he heard were to be related as soon as possible. Aizawa went on to say that after his directives changed, what appeared to be a whole network of Kaiba Corporation employees began to report to _him. _"It's almost funny. I could tell that none of them seemed to have anything to do with the family." Aizawa's eyes had looked dead. He seemed certain that he would die, at Seto's condemnation or Watanabe's, and the only questions were how long it would take and how bad it would be.

_Akira, _Seto thought, stomach churning. _It has to be Akira, he had his own spies, not even Yakuza, just his own spies. He never even asked his uncle for a favor until he got here. _He felt sick. Werenko Akira, only son of Watanabe Tomoko, Yoshinori's younger half-sister. Akira's obsession was now being sponsored by the Yamaguchi-gumi, he would have to get really creative. Otherwise, he was fairly sure he might just be fucked.

He'd already put out the word to fire those employees that Aizawa had named, which meant Akira would know he was caught. Seto had sent two of the hand-picked guards who had brought him in to escort Aizawa out of the country. He felt like it was the least he could do.

* * *

Mai swung a leg over her motorcycle to stand beside it, briefly pleased that they afforded such consistently convenient parking. Her smirk fell from her face, though, as a huge barrel of a bouncer put a hand on her arm.

"...Are you Mai? Kujaku Mai?"

Suspicious, she answered, "Maybe. Who wants to know?"

"I'm Antonio," he began.

"Big Tony?"

The man almost smiled. "So then you _must_ be Mai, and Jounochi told you about me." Mai kept silent, and Tony's face went serious. "Listen to me, please, there isn't much time."

Mai was becoming alarmed. "Much time for what? How do you know about me?"

"Same way you know about me; Jounochi. Now listen! The man who owns this club, Dino Suede, do you know who he works for?" Mai shook her head, waiting for the conversation to start making sense. "This whole area is under yakuza 'protection,'" he said urgently. "Yamaguchi-gumi, to be precise. Tonight, I heard Dino on the phone with someone, and I heard him arguing with someone about his best dancer."

"Jounochi?" Tony nodded and took a moment to look quickly behind and all around them.

"I heard him say, 'But he's the best, no one else pulls in crowds like him!' and then, 'Yes sir, I understand your nephew wants him, but-' and then he was quiet for a long time, and he looked scared. He said, 'Very well, I'll find a way to hold him here when he arrives for his shift.' He asked if he could do the set first, and I couldn't tell what the answer was."

"...Well, shit. That doesn't sound good."

"No," Tony agreed. "I tried calling his house, but no one picked up. We have to watch for him, and get to him before... whatever or whoever is trying to get him does first," he said. "Dino's been on the warpath since that call, and he's been looking at me funny, like maybe he knows I heard something."

Mai was a little overwhelmed, but she took a deep breath and tried to think. "It's almost nine o'clock now, so he should be here any minute, right?" Tony nodded, but then seemed to catch a glimpse of something and his entire demeanor changed. He leaned in close, stroking Mai's face with one hand and smiling winningly.

"Dino's watching," he said in a low voice through his affected leer. "Play along."

Mai simpered effectively, leaning closer to Tony. "We can't catch him at his house anymore. I'll go around back to the employee entrance to watch for him; you'll be by the main door, right?"

"I am the bouncer."

Mai nodded, smiled coquettishly for the benefit of any onlookers, and slipped around to the side of the building to wait.

* * *

AN: Shiro Ishii (June 25, 1892 – October 9, 1959) was a Japanese microbiologist and Japanese Imperial Army lieutenant general who was accused of war crimes for medical torture and bio-weapons experimentation. Scary, fucked-up dude.

Whew, this was freaking dramatic, eh? I felt like I was trying to hang on for dear life when I wrote this, like, "No, Seto, what are you doing?" and "Oh my god this dream is fucking creepy!" Do other people actually decide what's going to happen when they write, I wonder? Hmm. That sounds like it might be nice.

I love you guys. The shit is about to hit the fan.


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